Exodus 20.1-17
Psalm 19.8, 9, 10, 11 Resp. John 6:68c
1 Corinthians 1.22-25
John 2.13-25
Zeal is the willingness to kill in order to force people to keep God’s law. In the time of Jesus, zealots were an established group of people who held to this willingness. They looked back to Phineas, the great-nephew of Moses, who stabbed a spear through a man and the woman he was breaking God’s law with. They looked back to Matthais Maccabbees who, when he saw a Jew about to sacrifice to a pagan god on the altar, killed that man on the altar instead. In the modern day we call zealots “terrorists” like those mobs of Muslims that killed and burned because a comic was drawn about the violence of Muslims and their founder Mohammad or because some copies of the Koran were accidentally burned.
In the Gospel today, Jesus is the one with zeal. “Zeal for your house will consume me.” Today, unlike any other Gospel reading, we see Jesus with a weapon in his hand. Consider what that looked like: Jesus turning over tables, whipping the sheep and the oxen and their owners, spilling coins all over. This was the Jesus that the zealots wanted. Here he is using violence to make sure that God’s commandments are obeyed.
That is of course the difficulty with commandments. It is difficult enough to obey them ourselves, but when we see someone else who not only fails to obey but actually does not intend to obey, there is a kind of crisis. Will we decide that we do not care? Then the commandments must not be so important after all, so why do we bother trying to obey them? Or we could use violence and threats of violence to oblige the others to keep the commandments, in which case we are a zealot.
Consider the issue of abortion. God says “Thou shalt not kill” but there is murder happening in our country with the permission of the government. A million babies every year are murdered, some of them just one block away from here. What options do we have? If we really believed that abortion is murder, would it not be correct to be violent? If I saw a small child being murdered, I would absolutely use violence to defend them. Yet I hear that murders are occurring every day, 2500 murders a day, and I do nothing. WWJD? Should we make a whip of cords and drive the evil out of our society? Perhaps we should be zealots, like Jesus.
There is another option though. We could turn the other cheek. We could choose to suffer the wrong that others do, never breaking our own commitment to the commandments. In fact, Jesus is showing us today about another way to be a zealot. “Zeal for your house will consume me.” Zeal for your house will destroy me. That is not the way that zeal is supposed to work. Zeal meant being willing to kill and use violence, but Jesus is saying that he is willing to be killed, to be consumed. “Destroy this temple”, he says, meaning the temple of his own body.
This is a different kind of zeal, one unknown to the terrorists and the zealots. Instead of inflicting suffering, it chooses to suffer. Jesus came to this earth because we were doing wrong things. He did not come with a sword to compel us to do what is right, though, as he demonstrates today, he could have. He came to die on the Cross.
If the commandments of God were merely arbitrary commands, there would be no way to enforce them except through violence. God is stronger than us, so he can force us to do as he chooses. But this is not how God acts. Indeed, the few times in the Old Testament that God uses violence to enforce his will (the destruction of Sodom, the death of Korah, etc.) only emphasize how rarely that is the case. Usually God does not send fire from heaven to punish the wicked. When Adam and Eve sinned, he made them leave his garden, but he gave them a field to live in. God does not treat us like his enemies; he treats us like his children. And if God will not send fire down to destroy every Planned Parenthood and every other den of evil in this world, he does not need us to do it for him.
No, the commandments of God are not arbitrary; they are for our own good, and disobedience of the commandments is its own punishment. I do not obey the command “Thou shalt not kill” because I am afraid of the legal consequences or because I am worried that God will smite me down. I obey that command because I do not want to be a murderer. I do not want to be a thief. I do not want to be an adulterer or idolater or filled with envy.
When I look at Jesus, I see that he was a great man, and I wish that I could be more like him, not in the miracles he could work or in the following he had but in the way that he could keep the commandments. He lived his life like someone who knew the purpose of living. I wish I could be like that. He did not come to this earth to force me to be like him. He does not have to. I want to be like him, though I am too weak to be very much like him.
Once upon a time the sun and the wind got into an argument about who was stronger. They decided to settle things with a test. “Let us see who can force that man over there to take off his coat”, said the wind. The sun agreed. So the wind blew with all its strength, but the harder the wind blew, the more the man held on to his coat. Then it was the sun’s turn. He shone down strong and soon it was very warm and the man removed his coat.
The Zealots had zeal but violence is not convincing. Jesus knew that if he suffered and died for my sins, I could not resist loving him. This is how the weakness of God is greater than the strength of the human. I do not need God to force me to keep his commandments, though I do need him to help me. If someone tried to violently force me to follow a religion, I would resist, but since someone loved me so much that he was willing to die to save me, I am very interested in learning more about that love.
Daily Homilies
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
March 6, 2015 - Friday of the Second Week in Lent
Genesis 37:3-4, 12-13, 17-28
Psalm 105:16-21
Mathew 21:33-43, 45-46
Perhaps you have noticed that this week, we have seen a lot of death and almost-death. Abraham was going to kill Isaac. Yesterday, Lazarus and the rich man both died. Today, Joseph’s brothers were going to kill him, the favorite son of Jacob, and, in the Gospel parable, the landowner’s son is killed. This all culminates tomorrow in the parable of the Prodigal Son whom the father says was dead and is now alive again. This is all symbolic of Jesus, which his prophesy makes clear. Jesus is the beloved son who was sacrificed. Jesus was our brother whom we killed because we were jealous of how much our Father loved him.
We know that we will die. Some people live with that knowledge more present to them than others. When we are healthy, we rarely think of death. When we are young, death seems as impossible as growing old. Yet death will come. Death is the universal human experience. We speak different languages; we eat different foods; we live under different governments; but everyone in the history of the world has died or will die. Death is a brick wall that no one can go through. It ends every project, every hope, every plan. Is it impolite to speak about death? If we ignore it, will it go away?
No. We will acknowledge death. We will spend 40 days preparing to die, for we are in the season devoted to death. By fasting and almsgiving we are trying to let go of this world. By prayer we are grasping at the world to come. These days culminate in the Easter Triduum, which begins with the dying and death of Jesus Christ. Death is not the end. The Triduum ends in resurrection.
The master sent servant after servant to collect the harvest, but some they mistreated and others they killed, but the master did not give up on the land. He sent his son and they killed him too. What will the master do? He will raise his son from the dead and continue trying to get the fruit he desires. Nothing will stop the master from getting what he wants. He is relentless. He is unbeatable. The love of God is unstoppable.
Psalm 105:16-21
Mathew 21:33-43, 45-46
Perhaps you have noticed that this week, we have seen a lot of death and almost-death. Abraham was going to kill Isaac. Yesterday, Lazarus and the rich man both died. Today, Joseph’s brothers were going to kill him, the favorite son of Jacob, and, in the Gospel parable, the landowner’s son is killed. This all culminates tomorrow in the parable of the Prodigal Son whom the father says was dead and is now alive again. This is all symbolic of Jesus, which his prophesy makes clear. Jesus is the beloved son who was sacrificed. Jesus was our brother whom we killed because we were jealous of how much our Father loved him.
We know that we will die. Some people live with that knowledge more present to them than others. When we are healthy, we rarely think of death. When we are young, death seems as impossible as growing old. Yet death will come. Death is the universal human experience. We speak different languages; we eat different foods; we live under different governments; but everyone in the history of the world has died or will die. Death is a brick wall that no one can go through. It ends every project, every hope, every plan. Is it impolite to speak about death? If we ignore it, will it go away?
No. We will acknowledge death. We will spend 40 days preparing to die, for we are in the season devoted to death. By fasting and almsgiving we are trying to let go of this world. By prayer we are grasping at the world to come. These days culminate in the Easter Triduum, which begins with the dying and death of Jesus Christ. Death is not the end. The Triduum ends in resurrection.
The master sent servant after servant to collect the harvest, but some they mistreated and others they killed, but the master did not give up on the land. He sent his son and they killed him too. What will the master do? He will raise his son from the dead and continue trying to get the fruit he desires. Nothing will stop the master from getting what he wants. He is relentless. He is unbeatable. The love of God is unstoppable.
February 28, 2015 - Saturday of the First Week of Lent
Deuteronomy 26:16-19
Psalm 119:1-2, 4-5, 7-8
Matthew 5:43-48
So when Jesus says, “Be perfect”, what does he mean? I suppose he could mean, “be really not so bad after all” or “accept your imperfections as part of who you are”, but I actually think he meant “Be perfect.” My difficulty is that I fail utterly at being perfect, so what then?
Perhaps Jesus, knowing that I will fail to achieve this standard, sets it high anyway to tell me to be satisfied with nothing less. He wants me to be unusual, to do more than the others do. Not a little more, but a lot more. I am not to be satisfied until I am perfect, and, since I am never perfect, I am never allowed to be satisfied with my current level of love; I am never able to say, “I love enough.”
The command to be perfect stands on its own. Even if I am not perfect and have not been perfect and have no reasonable expectation of achieving perfection in the future, I am still commanded to be perfect. The command never goes away. The Pharisees loved to know the limits of commands, where they could stop obeying, but this command is unlimited. Some psychologists would say that this is unhealthy obsession with perfection, that I should learn to love myself just the way I am, but I cannot. I want to love myself just the way I could be.
On the other hand, Jesus might mean this not so much as a command as an offer. These sorts of phrases are always in advertisements. You know: “Live in Florida” or “Be beautiful.” The advertisement is saying, “It is possible to do these things if you take advantage of what I am offering you.” Then Jesus’ words would mean that if we love our neighbor and our enemy, we will become perfect. Love has the power to perfect us.
I know that I will never be as perfect as my heavenly Father is perfect. No matter how perfect I ever become by the grace of God, God will be more perfect. Jesus does not compare our perfection to our Father’s perfection because that is reasonable goal for us, but because we should look at our Father who loves us and want to be just like him. God made the rocks to be rocks and the flowers to be flower, and God made the angels to be angels, but he made humans to be gods, sons and daughters of the Most High.
Psalm 119:1-2, 4-5, 7-8
Matthew 5:43-48
So when Jesus says, “Be perfect”, what does he mean? I suppose he could mean, “be really not so bad after all” or “accept your imperfections as part of who you are”, but I actually think he meant “Be perfect.” My difficulty is that I fail utterly at being perfect, so what then?
Perhaps Jesus, knowing that I will fail to achieve this standard, sets it high anyway to tell me to be satisfied with nothing less. He wants me to be unusual, to do more than the others do. Not a little more, but a lot more. I am not to be satisfied until I am perfect, and, since I am never perfect, I am never allowed to be satisfied with my current level of love; I am never able to say, “I love enough.”
The command to be perfect stands on its own. Even if I am not perfect and have not been perfect and have no reasonable expectation of achieving perfection in the future, I am still commanded to be perfect. The command never goes away. The Pharisees loved to know the limits of commands, where they could stop obeying, but this command is unlimited. Some psychologists would say that this is unhealthy obsession with perfection, that I should learn to love myself just the way I am, but I cannot. I want to love myself just the way I could be.
On the other hand, Jesus might mean this not so much as a command as an offer. These sorts of phrases are always in advertisements. You know: “Live in Florida” or “Be beautiful.” The advertisement is saying, “It is possible to do these things if you take advantage of what I am offering you.” Then Jesus’ words would mean that if we love our neighbor and our enemy, we will become perfect. Love has the power to perfect us.
I know that I will never be as perfect as my heavenly Father is perfect. No matter how perfect I ever become by the grace of God, God will be more perfect. Jesus does not compare our perfection to our Father’s perfection because that is reasonable goal for us, but because we should look at our Father who loves us and want to be just like him. God made the rocks to be rocks and the flowers to be flower, and God made the angels to be angels, but he made humans to be gods, sons and daughters of the Most High.
July 5, 2014 - Saturday of the Thirteenth Week in Ordinary Time
Amos 9:11-15
Psalm 85:9-14
Matthew 9:14-17
The prophet Amos, whom we have been reading all week, has some very serious accusations for the Israelites. They have done some terrible things. He also is telling them that because of their crimes they will be punished by God with war and exile. It is a harsh book, but it still ends with comfort. Today, God says, “I will bring about the restoration of my people Israel.” Even in the midst of the accusation and punishment, there is comfort. Because God loves us.
It is a difficult theological problem, trying to consider whether what we suffer is the punishment of God for our sins or simply the random situation of life. On the one hand, God does seem to punish people for their sins throughout the Scriptures, exactly as we see here in the book of Amos, but on the other hand, people do not seem to suffer in proportion to their sins. Even here in the book of Amos, the Israelites are being punished because they afflicted the poor. So the suffering of the poor was not the punishment of God. Moreover, the punishment of God was war and exile. Surely the poor suffered through this punishment as well, the good with the bad.
So if we say that all suffering is punishment from God, we are clearly wrong, but it would also seem to be wrong to say that suffering is never punishment from God. How do we tell the difference? The classic way is to consider all the suffering of other people as simply suffering, deserving our sympathy and not our judgment, and to consider all of our own suffering as punishment, because we know our sins and we know that we deserve it.
Some people consider this method as too harsh. If I consider every sickness, every injury, every setback in my life as a punishment from God, will it be too difficult, or even impossible, to see God as love? If God loves me, why would he cause me to suffer? Then we should remember the reading today. Even before he has carried out his harsh punishment, the Lord is already speaking of restoring his people. The Lord is never out to hurt us. Everything he does is for our own good. If God is ever punishing us for our sins, then his punishment is yet another expression of his love. He loves us and does not want anything other than our good.
Psalm 85:9-14
Matthew 9:14-17
The prophet Amos, whom we have been reading all week, has some very serious accusations for the Israelites. They have done some terrible things. He also is telling them that because of their crimes they will be punished by God with war and exile. It is a harsh book, but it still ends with comfort. Today, God says, “I will bring about the restoration of my people Israel.” Even in the midst of the accusation and punishment, there is comfort. Because God loves us.
It is a difficult theological problem, trying to consider whether what we suffer is the punishment of God for our sins or simply the random situation of life. On the one hand, God does seem to punish people for their sins throughout the Scriptures, exactly as we see here in the book of Amos, but on the other hand, people do not seem to suffer in proportion to their sins. Even here in the book of Amos, the Israelites are being punished because they afflicted the poor. So the suffering of the poor was not the punishment of God. Moreover, the punishment of God was war and exile. Surely the poor suffered through this punishment as well, the good with the bad.
So if we say that all suffering is punishment from God, we are clearly wrong, but it would also seem to be wrong to say that suffering is never punishment from God. How do we tell the difference? The classic way is to consider all the suffering of other people as simply suffering, deserving our sympathy and not our judgment, and to consider all of our own suffering as punishment, because we know our sins and we know that we deserve it.
Some people consider this method as too harsh. If I consider every sickness, every injury, every setback in my life as a punishment from God, will it be too difficult, or even impossible, to see God as love? If God loves me, why would he cause me to suffer? Then we should remember the reading today. Even before he has carried out his harsh punishment, the Lord is already speaking of restoring his people. The Lord is never out to hurt us. Everything he does is for our own good. If God is ever punishing us for our sins, then his punishment is yet another expression of his love. He loves us and does not want anything other than our good.
June 27, 2014 - Solemnity of Most Sacred Heart of Jesus
Deuteronomy 7.6-11
Psalm 103.1-2, 3-4, 6-7, 8, 10 Resp. 17
1 John 4.7-16
Matthew 11.25-30
Today we celebrate the preeminent devotion, the greatest devotion of Christianity: the Sacred Heart of Jesus. In the Sacred Heart we celebrate the human body of our Savior. The heart deservedly stands as a symbol of the whole body. It is at the center of the body, and the heartbeat is evidence of the life of the body. In the Sacred Heart, we worship the actual organ in the body of our Savior, beating from the time of its formation in the womb of the Blessed Mother, beating while he preached forgiveness and healed the sick, stopped by the Cross, pierced by the lance, begun again at the Resurrection, and still, today, beating in the body seated at the right hand of the Father.
Further, devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus is devotion to the love of Jesus, the twofold love of Jesus: the divine love and his human love. The Sacred Heart is truly symbolic of the love of God which created the world and which redeemed a fallen world, but it also expresses the fully human love which Jesus had for the crowds, for the suffering, for his disciples, particularly for the “disciple whom Jesus loved.” The Sacred Heart loved not only with the love of God, but also was the perfect human heart, loving in right relationship all things.
We are convicted by the Sacred Heart for our lack of love. If it were only a symbol of divine love, the love which created us, so stunning in its infinity, an infinity which is for all but no less infinitely for each, we are by definition incapable of such love, but, since it is also a symbol of Jesus’ human love, we are indicted when we see how much love a human heart is capable of. Consider how, in comparison, we love so little. How small is our love for our families, our friends, and our enemies! How little compassion do we have for the sick, the poor and the suffering!
The love, both human and divine, symbolized by the Sacred Heart is an unrequited love. Through all human history, God has loved humans with an everlasting love, but humans have ignored and insulted this love. There is no greater symbol of the human response to God’s love than the Sacred Heart pierced by a lance. Humans respond with violence against the very symbol of God’s love, as if, unable to repay the love, and refusing to be in debt, they try to destroy the love of God. Yet the lance, rather than destroy the Sacred Heart, only opens it further, pouring forth blood and water in the final symbol of the complete gift.
Jesus invites us today to learn from him, for he is meek and humble of heart. Let us take him up on this generous invitation. If we think that we know anything or have a certain amount of wisdom, but we have not yet learned about love, we are mistaken. We will be truly wise when we are masters of love: the love God has for us, the love we return to God, the love God has for everyone else, the love we have for those whom God loves. All this love is one Love. “In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son as expiation for our sins.” We will not be masters of love until the beating of our hearts is in perfect sync with the Sacred Heart. Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make our hearts like unto yours.
Psalm 103.1-2, 3-4, 6-7, 8, 10 Resp. 17
1 John 4.7-16
Matthew 11.25-30
Today we celebrate the preeminent devotion, the greatest devotion of Christianity: the Sacred Heart of Jesus. In the Sacred Heart we celebrate the human body of our Savior. The heart deservedly stands as a symbol of the whole body. It is at the center of the body, and the heartbeat is evidence of the life of the body. In the Sacred Heart, we worship the actual organ in the body of our Savior, beating from the time of its formation in the womb of the Blessed Mother, beating while he preached forgiveness and healed the sick, stopped by the Cross, pierced by the lance, begun again at the Resurrection, and still, today, beating in the body seated at the right hand of the Father.
Further, devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus is devotion to the love of Jesus, the twofold love of Jesus: the divine love and his human love. The Sacred Heart is truly symbolic of the love of God which created the world and which redeemed a fallen world, but it also expresses the fully human love which Jesus had for the crowds, for the suffering, for his disciples, particularly for the “disciple whom Jesus loved.” The Sacred Heart loved not only with the love of God, but also was the perfect human heart, loving in right relationship all things.
We are convicted by the Sacred Heart for our lack of love. If it were only a symbol of divine love, the love which created us, so stunning in its infinity, an infinity which is for all but no less infinitely for each, we are by definition incapable of such love, but, since it is also a symbol of Jesus’ human love, we are indicted when we see how much love a human heart is capable of. Consider how, in comparison, we love so little. How small is our love for our families, our friends, and our enemies! How little compassion do we have for the sick, the poor and the suffering!
The love, both human and divine, symbolized by the Sacred Heart is an unrequited love. Through all human history, God has loved humans with an everlasting love, but humans have ignored and insulted this love. There is no greater symbol of the human response to God’s love than the Sacred Heart pierced by a lance. Humans respond with violence against the very symbol of God’s love, as if, unable to repay the love, and refusing to be in debt, they try to destroy the love of God. Yet the lance, rather than destroy the Sacred Heart, only opens it further, pouring forth blood and water in the final symbol of the complete gift.
Jesus invites us today to learn from him, for he is meek and humble of heart. Let us take him up on this generous invitation. If we think that we know anything or have a certain amount of wisdom, but we have not yet learned about love, we are mistaken. We will be truly wise when we are masters of love: the love God has for us, the love we return to God, the love God has for everyone else, the love we have for those whom God loves. All this love is one Love. “In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son as expiation for our sins.” We will not be masters of love until the beating of our hearts is in perfect sync with the Sacred Heart. Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make our hearts like unto yours.
March 21, 2014 - Friday of the Second Week in Lent
Genesis 37:3-4, 12-13, 17-28
Psalm 105:16-21
Mathew 21:33-43, 45-46
Perhaps you have noticed that this week, we have seen a lot of death and almost-death. Abraham was going to kill Isaac. Yesterday, Lazarus and the rich man both died. Today, Joseph’s brothers were going to kill him, the favorite son of Jacob, and, in the Gospel parable, the landowner’s son is killed. This all culminates tomorrow in the parable of the Prodigal Son whom the father says was dead and is now alive again. This is all symbolic of Jesus, which his prophesy makes clear. Jesus is the beloved son who was sacrificed. Jesus was our brother who we killed because we were jealous of how much our Father loved him.
We know that we will die. Some people live with that knowledge more present to them than others. When we are healthy, we rarely think of death. When we are young, death seems as impossible as growing old. Yet death will come. Death is the universal human experience. We speak different languages; we eat different foods; we live under different governments; but everyone has died or will die. Death is a brick wall that no one can go through. It ends every project, every hope, every plan. Is it impolite to speak about death? If we ignore it, will it go away?
No. We will acknowledge death. We will spend 40 days preparing to die, for we are in the season devoted to death. By fasting and almsgiving we are trying to let go of this world. By prayer we are grasping at the world to come. These days culminate in the Easter Triduum, which begins with the dying and death of Jesus Christ. Death is not the end. The Triduum ends in resurrection.
The master sent servant after servant to collect the harvest, but some they mistreated and others they killed, but the master did not give up on the land. He sent his son and they killed him too. What will the master do? He will raise his son from the dead and continue trying to get the fruit he desires. Nothing will stop the master from getting what he wants. He is relentless. He is unbeatable. The love of God is unstoppable.
Psalm 105:16-21
Mathew 21:33-43, 45-46
Perhaps you have noticed that this week, we have seen a lot of death and almost-death. Abraham was going to kill Isaac. Yesterday, Lazarus and the rich man both died. Today, Joseph’s brothers were going to kill him, the favorite son of Jacob, and, in the Gospel parable, the landowner’s son is killed. This all culminates tomorrow in the parable of the Prodigal Son whom the father says was dead and is now alive again. This is all symbolic of Jesus, which his prophesy makes clear. Jesus is the beloved son who was sacrificed. Jesus was our brother who we killed because we were jealous of how much our Father loved him.
We know that we will die. Some people live with that knowledge more present to them than others. When we are healthy, we rarely think of death. When we are young, death seems as impossible as growing old. Yet death will come. Death is the universal human experience. We speak different languages; we eat different foods; we live under different governments; but everyone has died or will die. Death is a brick wall that no one can go through. It ends every project, every hope, every plan. Is it impolite to speak about death? If we ignore it, will it go away?
No. We will acknowledge death. We will spend 40 days preparing to die, for we are in the season devoted to death. By fasting and almsgiving we are trying to let go of this world. By prayer we are grasping at the world to come. These days culminate in the Easter Triduum, which begins with the dying and death of Jesus Christ. Death is not the end. The Triduum ends in resurrection.
The master sent servant after servant to collect the harvest, but some they mistreated and others they killed, but the master did not give up on the land. He sent his son and they killed him too. What will the master do? He will raise his son from the dead and continue trying to get the fruit he desires. Nothing will stop the master from getting what he wants. He is relentless. He is unbeatable. The love of God is unstoppable.
March 15, 2014 - Saturday of the First Week of Lent
Deuteronomy 26:16-19
Psalm 119:1-2, 4-5, 7-8
Matthew 5:43-48
So when Jesus says, “Be perfect”, what does he mean? I suppose he could mean, “be really not so bad after all” or “accept your imperfections as part of who you are”, but I actually think he meant “Be perfect.” My difficulty is that I fail utterly at being perfect, so what then?
Perhaps Jesus, knowing that I will fail to achieve this standard, sets it high anyway to tell me to be satisfied with nothing less. He wants me to be unusual, to do more than the others do. Not a little more, but a lot more. I am not to be satisfied until I am perfect, and, since I am never perfect, I am never allowed to be satisfied with my current level of love; I am never able to say, “I love enough.”
The command to be perfect stands on its own. Even if I am not perfect and have not been perfect and have no reasonable expectation of achieving perfection in the future, I am still commanded to be perfect. The command never goes away. The Pharisees loved to know the limits of commands, where they could stop obeying, but this command is unlimited. Some psychologists would say that this is unhealthy obsession with perfection, that I should learn to love myself just the way I am, but I cannot. I want to love myself just the way I could be.
On the other hand, Jesus might mean this not so much as a command as an offer. These sorts of phrases are always in advertisements. You know: “Live in Florida” or “Be beautiful.” The advertisement is saying, “It is possible to do these things if you take advantage of what I am offering you.” Then Jesus’ words would mean that if we love our neighbor and our enemy, we will become perfect. Love has the power to perfect us.
I know that I will never be as perfect as my heavenly Father is perfect. No matter how perfect I ever become by the grace of God, God will be more perfect. Jesus does not compare our perfection to our Father’s perfection because that is reasonable goal for us, but because we should look at our Father who loves us and want to be just like him. God made the rocks to be rocks and the flowers to be flower, and God made the angels to be angels, but he made humans to be gods, sons and daughters of the Most High.
Psalm 119:1-2, 4-5, 7-8
Matthew 5:43-48
So when Jesus says, “Be perfect”, what does he mean? I suppose he could mean, “be really not so bad after all” or “accept your imperfections as part of who you are”, but I actually think he meant “Be perfect.” My difficulty is that I fail utterly at being perfect, so what then?
Perhaps Jesus, knowing that I will fail to achieve this standard, sets it high anyway to tell me to be satisfied with nothing less. He wants me to be unusual, to do more than the others do. Not a little more, but a lot more. I am not to be satisfied until I am perfect, and, since I am never perfect, I am never allowed to be satisfied with my current level of love; I am never able to say, “I love enough.”
The command to be perfect stands on its own. Even if I am not perfect and have not been perfect and have no reasonable expectation of achieving perfection in the future, I am still commanded to be perfect. The command never goes away. The Pharisees loved to know the limits of commands, where they could stop obeying, but this command is unlimited. Some psychologists would say that this is unhealthy obsession with perfection, that I should learn to love myself just the way I am, but I cannot. I want to love myself just the way I could be.
On the other hand, Jesus might mean this not so much as a command as an offer. These sorts of phrases are always in advertisements. You know: “Live in Florida” or “Be beautiful.” The advertisement is saying, “It is possible to do these things if you take advantage of what I am offering you.” Then Jesus’ words would mean that if we love our neighbor and our enemy, we will become perfect. Love has the power to perfect us.
I know that I will never be as perfect as my heavenly Father is perfect. No matter how perfect I ever become by the grace of God, God will be more perfect. Jesus does not compare our perfection to our Father’s perfection because that is reasonable goal for us, but because we should look at our Father who loves us and want to be just like him. God made the rocks to be rocks and the flowers to be flower, and God made the angels to be angels, but he made humans to be gods, sons and daughters of the Most High.
March 5, 2014 - Ash Wednesday
Joel 2:12-18
Psalm 51:3-6, 12-14, 17
2 Corinthians 5:20 -- 6:2
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18
Jesus told us to love God above all things and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Love is the heart of Christianity, but our love is weak and disordered. We do not love God with all our heart and soul and strength, so we need to spend time in prayer this Lent. We do not love our neighbors who are created by God, our brothers and sisters, so we need to give away that which we love more than them, our money and our time. We do love ourselves, but we love ourselves in the wrong way; we should love ourselves like parents, with some discipline, having our best interest at heart, but, instead, we love ourselves like bad grandparents, over-indulging ourselves with candies and toys, so we need to start refusing ourselves treats sometimes. Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are good for us, and they should hurt if they are going to work. Our souls complain about being unselfish. Do not give in to the complaints! Our souls warn us that this is too much, too much prayer, fasting, and almsgiving; it will kill us: without selfish indulgence, we will die. Good! Let us die. Let us be nailed to the Cross with our Savior. Then, when Easter comes, he can raise us up.
Our souls are flabby and out of shape. The combined effect of all the sins we commit is puny, scrawny, pathetic souls. We are in serious need of spiritual exercise: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. If we make feeble attempts, we will get feeble results. It is 44 days from now until we celebrate the Easter Triduum, we get 4 days of introduction and then, on Sunday, the 40 days of Lent begin. The lazier we are, spiritually, the rest of the year, the more seriously we should look to these days as a time of intensive effort and training for our soul.
“The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.” If Satan could convince us to not fast at all this Lent, he would. If not, he will try to get us to fast in a silly way, to give up chocolate chip cookies for Lent, and we will eat brownies instead, or, perhaps, we obey the abstinence from meat on Fridays by having a feast of shrimp and lobster. If we are not taken in by any of this, the last temptation comes: “to do the right deed for the wrong reason.” To fast and pray and give alms in order to impress people. If we are going to make this intensive effort, we had better be sure that we are doing it for the right reason. If we fast and tell people about our fasting, if we give to the poor our money or our time and make certain that the world is aware of our generosity, if we pray so that others will see us, all that effort will be wasted. Only our pride will be strengthened; our souls will be weakened further.
Let us pray until we fall head-over-heels in love with God. Let us give away our money and time until we begin to love our neighbors as ourselves. Let us fast until our love for ourselves is no longer self-indulgent. When we look out and see the canyon between us and heaven, we want to move forward, we want to take the leap of faith, but we are afraid, afraid of many things, but especially frightened that we will begin to live a new life and soon fail and be laughed at for ever trying. Lent is our training ground, our opportunity to try out the life of the Saints. If we cannot be perfect all year-round, let us be perfect for forty days straight.
Psalm 51:3-6, 12-14, 17
2 Corinthians 5:20 -- 6:2
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18
Jesus told us to love God above all things and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Love is the heart of Christianity, but our love is weak and disordered. We do not love God with all our heart and soul and strength, so we need to spend time in prayer this Lent. We do not love our neighbors who are created by God, our brothers and sisters, so we need to give away that which we love more than them, our money and our time. We do love ourselves, but we love ourselves in the wrong way; we should love ourselves like parents, with some discipline, having our best interest at heart, but, instead, we love ourselves like bad grandparents, over-indulging ourselves with candies and toys, so we need to start refusing ourselves treats sometimes. Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are good for us, and they should hurt if they are going to work. Our souls complain about being unselfish. Do not give in to the complaints! Our souls warn us that this is too much, too much prayer, fasting, and almsgiving; it will kill us: without selfish indulgence, we will die. Good! Let us die. Let us be nailed to the Cross with our Savior. Then, when Easter comes, he can raise us up.
Our souls are flabby and out of shape. The combined effect of all the sins we commit is puny, scrawny, pathetic souls. We are in serious need of spiritual exercise: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. If we make feeble attempts, we will get feeble results. It is 44 days from now until we celebrate the Easter Triduum, we get 4 days of introduction and then, on Sunday, the 40 days of Lent begin. The lazier we are, spiritually, the rest of the year, the more seriously we should look to these days as a time of intensive effort and training for our soul.
“The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.” If Satan could convince us to not fast at all this Lent, he would. If not, he will try to get us to fast in a silly way, to give up chocolate chip cookies for Lent, and we will eat brownies instead, or, perhaps, we obey the abstinence from meat on Fridays by having a feast of shrimp and lobster. If we are not taken in by any of this, the last temptation comes: “to do the right deed for the wrong reason.” To fast and pray and give alms in order to impress people. If we are going to make this intensive effort, we had better be sure that we are doing it for the right reason. If we fast and tell people about our fasting, if we give to the poor our money or our time and make certain that the world is aware of our generosity, if we pray so that others will see us, all that effort will be wasted. Only our pride will be strengthened; our souls will be weakened further.
Let us pray until we fall head-over-heels in love with God. Let us give away our money and time until we begin to love our neighbors as ourselves. Let us fast until our love for ourselves is no longer self-indulgent. When we look out and see the canyon between us and heaven, we want to move forward, we want to take the leap of faith, but we are afraid, afraid of many things, but especially frightened that we will begin to live a new life and soon fail and be laughed at for ever trying. Lent is our training ground, our opportunity to try out the life of the Saints. If we cannot be perfect all year-round, let us be perfect for forty days straight.
February 25, 2014 - Tuesday of the Seventh Week in Ordinary Time
James 4:1-10
Psalm 55:7-11, 23
Mark 9:30-37
St. James calls us “adulterers”. Why does he feel so free to use such harsh language? Because it is true. The accusation he is making is true of every sinful human being, including St. James himself, I am sure. He called us adulterers because like an adulterer we are unfaithful to our true love. We love God, but we keep stepping out on him. Whoever wants to be a lover of the world makes themself an enemy of God. There is no way to reconcile our love of God with our love of the world. It is adultery.
God is jealous. Like any true lover, he is not willing to have his beloved be unfaithful. So what should we do? We cannot hide our affair with the world from God. He sees all and knows all. Our unfaithfulness is done within his sight. When we go to God to admit our sins, our unfaithfulness, he already knows all about it. He wants us to admit it so that he can forgive us. If we are too proud to admit our inconsistency, then we have no hope. God resists the proud. But if we are humble and put ourselves in God’s hands, he will give us grace.
When we are tempted to sin, giving in never does the least good. Even if our struggle with temptation is painful, especially when our struggle with temptation is painful, we are accomplishing great things. When we resist temptation, we put up a defense against Satan. When we give in to temptation, we welcome the devil right in. And it will be harder the next time, harder to resist, easier for him to get in.
Our relationship with God is never very close if we are unfaithful to him. If I loved him as he loved me, I would never sin; I would never abandon him in search of what only he can offer me. God has come from heaven to earth to be with us. He comes as close as he possibly can, inches away, but these last inches cannot be crossed by him lest he destroy my free will. Is God too far away? The distance between you and God is the arms length that you hold him away at. The only thing stopping God from embracing you totally, is your own will. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.
Psalm 55:7-11, 23
Mark 9:30-37
St. James calls us “adulterers”. Why does he feel so free to use such harsh language? Because it is true. The accusation he is making is true of every sinful human being, including St. James himself, I am sure. He called us adulterers because like an adulterer we are unfaithful to our true love. We love God, but we keep stepping out on him. Whoever wants to be a lover of the world makes themself an enemy of God. There is no way to reconcile our love of God with our love of the world. It is adultery.
God is jealous. Like any true lover, he is not willing to have his beloved be unfaithful. So what should we do? We cannot hide our affair with the world from God. He sees all and knows all. Our unfaithfulness is done within his sight. When we go to God to admit our sins, our unfaithfulness, he already knows all about it. He wants us to admit it so that he can forgive us. If we are too proud to admit our inconsistency, then we have no hope. God resists the proud. But if we are humble and put ourselves in God’s hands, he will give us grace.
When we are tempted to sin, giving in never does the least good. Even if our struggle with temptation is painful, especially when our struggle with temptation is painful, we are accomplishing great things. When we resist temptation, we put up a defense against Satan. When we give in to temptation, we welcome the devil right in. And it will be harder the next time, harder to resist, easier for him to get in.
Our relationship with God is never very close if we are unfaithful to him. If I loved him as he loved me, I would never sin; I would never abandon him in search of what only he can offer me. God has come from heaven to earth to be with us. He comes as close as he possibly can, inches away, but these last inches cannot be crossed by him lest he destroy my free will. Is God too far away? The distance between you and God is the arms length that you hold him away at. The only thing stopping God from embracing you totally, is your own will. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.
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.
February 5, 2014 - Wednesday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time
2 Samuel 24:2, 9-17
Psalm 32:1-2, 5-7
Mark 6:1-6
There is a feeling that we do not really possess a thing until we have counted and measured a thing. When we buy a new object, it is not really ours until we have tested it out. If I buy a car, I want to drive it, to see how it handles, how fast it can accelerate, how well the brakes work. Undoubtedly, I looked into all this before I bought it, but I have to do it again now that I own it. When someone gives me a gift, I do not just open it, look at it, and put aside. If the situation allows, I am going to try it right then and there: it is a book, I will flip through it; if it is a sweater, I will put it on; if it is a paperweight, I will feel how heavy it is.
Such is the problem with David's action today. He is counting the fighting men of Israel, because he wants to know how many fighting men he has. The correct answer is zero. He has no fighting men, because the people of Israel do not belong to him. It may seem like a small thing he has done, asking for a census, but it is not. By daring to count the people of Israel, he is suggesting that they belong to him when actually they belong to God. God must punish him severely to make clear that Israel belongs to him alone, not David.
The people of Jesus' hometown should feel pride at seeing a hometown boy make good, but instead they are offended that he would be so wise and powerful. They do not know that he is God. Perhaps they never heard how the Angel Gabriel came to Mary. As far as they are concerned, he came to Nazareth as a young boy from Egypt. He worked as a carpenter until he was 30. Perhaps he made a shelf or a yoke that they use every day. They seem to think that they have him all figured out, but they do not realize that there is more than they know.
No one's existence is comprised of their usefulness to us. Every single person has a dignity that cannot be summed up in a checkmark on a census or by a job or by their family. There is more to people than we know. Getting to know them as individuals is part of loving our neighbors.
Psalm 32:1-2, 5-7
Mark 6:1-6
There is a feeling that we do not really possess a thing until we have counted and measured a thing. When we buy a new object, it is not really ours until we have tested it out. If I buy a car, I want to drive it, to see how it handles, how fast it can accelerate, how well the brakes work. Undoubtedly, I looked into all this before I bought it, but I have to do it again now that I own it. When someone gives me a gift, I do not just open it, look at it, and put aside. If the situation allows, I am going to try it right then and there: it is a book, I will flip through it; if it is a sweater, I will put it on; if it is a paperweight, I will feel how heavy it is.
Such is the problem with David's action today. He is counting the fighting men of Israel, because he wants to know how many fighting men he has. The correct answer is zero. He has no fighting men, because the people of Israel do not belong to him. It may seem like a small thing he has done, asking for a census, but it is not. By daring to count the people of Israel, he is suggesting that they belong to him when actually they belong to God. God must punish him severely to make clear that Israel belongs to him alone, not David.
The people of Jesus' hometown should feel pride at seeing a hometown boy make good, but instead they are offended that he would be so wise and powerful. They do not know that he is God. Perhaps they never heard how the Angel Gabriel came to Mary. As far as they are concerned, he came to Nazareth as a young boy from Egypt. He worked as a carpenter until he was 30. Perhaps he made a shelf or a yoke that they use every day. They seem to think that they have him all figured out, but they do not realize that there is more than they know.
No one's existence is comprised of their usefulness to us. Every single person has a dignity that cannot be summed up in a checkmark on a census or by a job or by their family. There is more to people than we know. Getting to know them as individuals is part of loving our neighbors.
February 4, 2014 - Tuesday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time
Today's Readings
In the readings today we see the remarkable love of the father for his son. Absalom had rebelled against David and stolen the kingdom from him. He slept with David's wives. He killed his half-brother, David's son. He started a war, and chased his father from Jerusalem. Today we hear the end of that war, when the officers of David triumph in battle, and kill Absalom. David is not excited to hear that he has beaten the rebels; he just mourns the death of his son. He never stopped loving his son Absalom, despite Absalom's ungrateful attitude toward him.
In the Gospel, we see a father who is willing to do anything to save his daughter. He comes to Jesus, and falls at his feet, and begs him. Jairus was an important man, but he forgets all dignity and all pride when it comes to pleading for his daughter's life.
It is this word “daughter” that links the two stories in the Gospel today. Jairus is concerned for the life of his daughter, and when Jesus speaks to the woman he says to her “Daughter, your faith has saved you.” It is by this sentence that we can be certain that Jesus felt toward that woman as Jairus did toward his daughter, as David did toward Absalom. God loves us as a parent loves their child, or rather, more than that.
What did David say when he heard that Absalom had been killed? “My son, my son Absalom, if only I had died instead of you!” Surely this feeling was shared by Jairus, as it is shared by so many parents whose children have died, as it was shared by our Father in heaven. God came down from heaven to earth and actually did die instead of us.
Since Jesus died for us, we may still die in this body, but there is no reason why our souls have to die too. He proves this by raising Jairus's daughter back to life. We can be sure that God has power even over death. We can be sure that he loves us and every single person he created. Is it possible to doubt then that he will raise to new life not only the daughter of Jairus but every child who has ever lived and died? There will be a resurrection for everyone who does not reject their Father's love.
In the readings today we see the remarkable love of the father for his son. Absalom had rebelled against David and stolen the kingdom from him. He slept with David's wives. He killed his half-brother, David's son. He started a war, and chased his father from Jerusalem. Today we hear the end of that war, when the officers of David triumph in battle, and kill Absalom. David is not excited to hear that he has beaten the rebels; he just mourns the death of his son. He never stopped loving his son Absalom, despite Absalom's ungrateful attitude toward him.
In the Gospel, we see a father who is willing to do anything to save his daughter. He comes to Jesus, and falls at his feet, and begs him. Jairus was an important man, but he forgets all dignity and all pride when it comes to pleading for his daughter's life.
It is this word “daughter” that links the two stories in the Gospel today. Jairus is concerned for the life of his daughter, and when Jesus speaks to the woman he says to her “Daughter, your faith has saved you.” It is by this sentence that we can be certain that Jesus felt toward that woman as Jairus did toward his daughter, as David did toward Absalom. God loves us as a parent loves their child, or rather, more than that.
What did David say when he heard that Absalom had been killed? “My son, my son Absalom, if only I had died instead of you!” Surely this feeling was shared by Jairus, as it is shared by so many parents whose children have died, as it was shared by our Father in heaven. God came down from heaven to earth and actually did die instead of us.
Since Jesus died for us, we may still die in this body, but there is no reason why our souls have to die too. He proves this by raising Jairus's daughter back to life. We can be sure that God has power even over death. We can be sure that he loves us and every single person he created. Is it possible to doubt then that he will raise to new life not only the daughter of Jairus but every child who has ever lived and died? There will be a resurrection for everyone who does not reject their Father's love.
March 1, 2013 - Friday of the Second Week in Lent
Genesis 37:3-4, 12-13, 17-28
Psalm 105:16-21
Mathew 21:33-43, 45-46
Perhaps you have noticed that this week, we have seen a lot of death and almost-death. Abraham was going to kill Isaac. They were planning to kill Jeremiah on Wednesday, which was also when Jesus told his disciples that the Son of Man would be killed. Yesterday, Lazarus and the rich man both died. Today, Joseph’s brothers were going to kill him, the favorite son of Jacob, and, in the Gospel parable, the landowner’s son is killed. This all culminates tomorrow in the parable of the Prodigal Son whom the father says was dead and is now alive again.
This is all symbolic of Jesus, which his prophesy makes clear. Jesus is the beloved son who was sacrificed. Jesus was the prophet who so offended the leadership of Israel that they wanted to kill him. Jesus was our brother whom we killed because we were jealous of how much our Father loved him.
We know that we will die. Some people live with that knowledge more present to them than others. When we are healthy, we rarely think of death. When we are young, death seems as impossible as growing old. Yet death will come. Death is the universal human experience. We speak different languages; we eat different foods; we live under different governments; but everyone has died or will die. Death is a brick wall that no one can go through. It ends every project, every hope, every plan. Is it impolite to speak about death? If we ignore it, will it go away?
No. We will acknowledge death. We will spend 40 days preparing to die, for we are in the season devoted to death. By fasting and almsgiving we are trying to let go of this world. By prayer we are grasping at the world to come. These days culminate in the Easter Triduum, which begins with the dying and death of Jesus Christ. Death is not the end. The Triduum ends in resurrection.
The master sent servant after servant to collect the harvest, but some they mistreated and others they killed, but the master did not give up on the land. He sent his son and they killed him too. What will the master do? He will raise his son from the dead and continue trying to get the fruit he desires. Nothing will stop the master from getting what he wants. He is relentless. He is unbeatable. The love of God is unstoppable.
Psalm 105:16-21
Mathew 21:33-43, 45-46
Perhaps you have noticed that this week, we have seen a lot of death and almost-death. Abraham was going to kill Isaac. They were planning to kill Jeremiah on Wednesday, which was also when Jesus told his disciples that the Son of Man would be killed. Yesterday, Lazarus and the rich man both died. Today, Joseph’s brothers were going to kill him, the favorite son of Jacob, and, in the Gospel parable, the landowner’s son is killed. This all culminates tomorrow in the parable of the Prodigal Son whom the father says was dead and is now alive again.
This is all symbolic of Jesus, which his prophesy makes clear. Jesus is the beloved son who was sacrificed. Jesus was the prophet who so offended the leadership of Israel that they wanted to kill him. Jesus was our brother whom we killed because we were jealous of how much our Father loved him.
We know that we will die. Some people live with that knowledge more present to them than others. When we are healthy, we rarely think of death. When we are young, death seems as impossible as growing old. Yet death will come. Death is the universal human experience. We speak different languages; we eat different foods; we live under different governments; but everyone has died or will die. Death is a brick wall that no one can go through. It ends every project, every hope, every plan. Is it impolite to speak about death? If we ignore it, will it go away?
No. We will acknowledge death. We will spend 40 days preparing to die, for we are in the season devoted to death. By fasting and almsgiving we are trying to let go of this world. By prayer we are grasping at the world to come. These days culminate in the Easter Triduum, which begins with the dying and death of Jesus Christ. Death is not the end. The Triduum ends in resurrection.
The master sent servant after servant to collect the harvest, but some they mistreated and others they killed, but the master did not give up on the land. He sent his son and they killed him too. What will the master do? He will raise his son from the dead and continue trying to get the fruit he desires. Nothing will stop the master from getting what he wants. He is relentless. He is unbeatable. The love of God is unstoppable.
February 23, 2013 - Saturday of the First Week of Lent
Deuteronomy 26:16-19
Psalm 119:1-2, 4-5, 7-8
Matthew 5:43-48
So when Jesus says, “Be perfect”, what does he mean? I suppose he could mean, “be really not so bad after all” or “accept your imperfections as part of who you are”, but I actually think he meant “Be perfect.” My difficulty is that I fail utterly at being perfect, so what then?
Perhaps Jesus, knowing that I will fail to achieve this standard, sets it high anyway to tell me to be satisfied with nothing less. He wants me to be unusual, to do more than the others do. Not a little more, but a lot more. I am not to be satisfied until I am perfect, and, since I am never perfect, I am never allowed to be satisfied with my current level of love; I am never able to say, “I love enough.”
The command to be perfect stands on its own. Even if I am not perfect and have not been perfect and have no reasonable expectation of achieving perfection in the future, I am still commanded to be perfect. The command never goes away. The Pharisees loved to know the limits of commands, where they could stop obeying, but this command is unlimited. Some psychologists would say that this is unhealthy obsession with perfection, that I should learn to love myself just the way I am, but I cannot. I want to love myself just the way I could be.
On the other hand, Jesus might mean this not so much as a command as an offer. These sorts of phrases are always in advertisements. You know: “Live in Florida” or “Be beautiful.” The advertisement is saying, “It is possible to do these things if you take advantage of what I am offering you.” Then Jesus’ words would mean that if we love our neighbor and our enemy, we will become perfect. Love has the power to perfect us.
I know that I will never be as perfect as my heavenly Father is perfect. No matter how perfect I ever become by the grace of God, God will be more perfect. Jesus does not compare our perfection to our Father’s perfection because that is reasonable goal for us, but because we should look at our Father who loves us and want to be just like him. God made the rocks to be rocks and the flowers to be flower, and God made the angels to be angels, but he made humans to be gods, sons and daughters of the Most High.
Psalm 119:1-2, 4-5, 7-8
Matthew 5:43-48
So when Jesus says, “Be perfect”, what does he mean? I suppose he could mean, “be really not so bad after all” or “accept your imperfections as part of who you are”, but I actually think he meant “Be perfect.” My difficulty is that I fail utterly at being perfect, so what then?
Perhaps Jesus, knowing that I will fail to achieve this standard, sets it high anyway to tell me to be satisfied with nothing less. He wants me to be unusual, to do more than the others do. Not a little more, but a lot more. I am not to be satisfied until I am perfect, and, since I am never perfect, I am never allowed to be satisfied with my current level of love; I am never able to say, “I love enough.”
The command to be perfect stands on its own. Even if I am not perfect and have not been perfect and have no reasonable expectation of achieving perfection in the future, I am still commanded to be perfect. The command never goes away. The Pharisees loved to know the limits of commands, where they could stop obeying, but this command is unlimited. Some psychologists would say that this is unhealthy obsession with perfection, that I should learn to love myself just the way I am, but I cannot. I want to love myself just the way I could be.
On the other hand, Jesus might mean this not so much as a command as an offer. These sorts of phrases are always in advertisements. You know: “Live in Florida” or “Be beautiful.” The advertisement is saying, “It is possible to do these things if you take advantage of what I am offering you.” Then Jesus’ words would mean that if we love our neighbor and our enemy, we will become perfect. Love has the power to perfect us.
I know that I will never be as perfect as my heavenly Father is perfect. No matter how perfect I ever become by the grace of God, God will be more perfect. Jesus does not compare our perfection to our Father’s perfection because that is reasonable goal for us, but because we should look at our Father who loves us and want to be just like him. God made the rocks to be rocks and the flowers to be flower, and God made the angels to be angels, but he made humans to be gods, sons and daughters of the Most High.
February 13, 2013 - Ash Wednesday
Joel 2:12-18
Psalm 51:3-6, 12-14, 17
2 Corinthians 5:20 -- 6:2
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18
“The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.” This quote from T.S. Eliot comes in a play where a saint is tempted by many things but does not give in, and then the final temptation arrives: “To do the right deed for the wrong reason.” If Satan could convince us to not fast at all this Lent, he would. If not, he will try to get us to fast in a silly way, to give up chocolate chip cookies for Lent, as we eat brownies instead, or, perhaps, we obey the abstinence from meat on Fridays by having a feast of shrimp and lobster. If we are not taken in by any of this, the last temptation comes: “to do the right deed for the wrong reason.” We fast, in order to impress people. We fast, in order to lose weight. We fast, in order to fulfill some New Year’s resolution.
Jesus told us to love God above all things and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Love is the heart of Christianity, but our love is weak and disordered. We do not love God with all our heart and soul and strength, so we need to spend time in prayer this Lent. We do not love our neighbors who are created by God, our brothers and sisters, so we need to give away that which we love more than them, our money and our time. We do love ourselves, but we love ourselves in the wrong way; we should love ourselves like parents, with some discipline, having our best interest at heart, but, instead, we love ourselves like senile grandparents, over-indulging ourselves with candies and toys, so we need to start refusing ourselves treats sometimes. Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are good for us. They should hurt. Our souls complain about being unselfish. Do not give in to the complaints! Our souls warn us that this is too much, too much prayer, fasting, and almsgiving; it will kill us: without selfish indulgence, we will die. Good! Let us die. Let us be nailed to the Cross with our Savior. Then, when Easter comes, he can raise us up.
Our souls are flabby and out of shape. The combined effect of all the sins we commit is puny, scrawny, pathetic souls. We are in serious need of spiritual exercise: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. If we make feeble attempts, we will get feeble results. It is 44 days from now until we celebrate the Easter Triduum, we get 4 days of introduction and then, on Sunday, the 40 days of Lent begin. The lazier we are, spiritually, the rest of the year, the more seriously we should look to these days as a time of intensive effort, P40X for the soul.
If we are going to make this intensive effort, we had better be sure that we are doing it for the right reason. If we fast and tell people about our fasting, if we give to the poor our money or our time and make certain that the world is aware of our generosity, if we pray so that others will see us, all that effort will be wasted. Only our pride will be strengthened; our souls will be weakened further.
Let us pray until we fall head-over-heels in love with God. Let us give away our money and time until we begin to love our neighbors as ourselves. Let us fast until our love for ourselves is no longer self-indulgent. When we look out and see the canyon between us and heaven, we want to move forward, we want to take the leap of faith, but we are afraid, afraid of many things, but especially frightened that we will begin to live a new life and soon fail and be laughed at for ever trying. Lent is our training ground, our opportunity to try out the life of the Saints. If we cannot be perfect all year-round, let us be perfect for forty days straight.
Psalm 51:3-6, 12-14, 17
2 Corinthians 5:20 -- 6:2
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18
“The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.” This quote from T.S. Eliot comes in a play where a saint is tempted by many things but does not give in, and then the final temptation arrives: “To do the right deed for the wrong reason.” If Satan could convince us to not fast at all this Lent, he would. If not, he will try to get us to fast in a silly way, to give up chocolate chip cookies for Lent, as we eat brownies instead, or, perhaps, we obey the abstinence from meat on Fridays by having a feast of shrimp and lobster. If we are not taken in by any of this, the last temptation comes: “to do the right deed for the wrong reason.” We fast, in order to impress people. We fast, in order to lose weight. We fast, in order to fulfill some New Year’s resolution.
Jesus told us to love God above all things and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Love is the heart of Christianity, but our love is weak and disordered. We do not love God with all our heart and soul and strength, so we need to spend time in prayer this Lent. We do not love our neighbors who are created by God, our brothers and sisters, so we need to give away that which we love more than them, our money and our time. We do love ourselves, but we love ourselves in the wrong way; we should love ourselves like parents, with some discipline, having our best interest at heart, but, instead, we love ourselves like senile grandparents, over-indulging ourselves with candies and toys, so we need to start refusing ourselves treats sometimes. Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are good for us. They should hurt. Our souls complain about being unselfish. Do not give in to the complaints! Our souls warn us that this is too much, too much prayer, fasting, and almsgiving; it will kill us: without selfish indulgence, we will die. Good! Let us die. Let us be nailed to the Cross with our Savior. Then, when Easter comes, he can raise us up.
Our souls are flabby and out of shape. The combined effect of all the sins we commit is puny, scrawny, pathetic souls. We are in serious need of spiritual exercise: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. If we make feeble attempts, we will get feeble results. It is 44 days from now until we celebrate the Easter Triduum, we get 4 days of introduction and then, on Sunday, the 40 days of Lent begin. The lazier we are, spiritually, the rest of the year, the more seriously we should look to these days as a time of intensive effort, P40X for the soul.
If we are going to make this intensive effort, we had better be sure that we are doing it for the right reason. If we fast and tell people about our fasting, if we give to the poor our money or our time and make certain that the world is aware of our generosity, if we pray so that others will see us, all that effort will be wasted. Only our pride will be strengthened; our souls will be weakened further.
Let us pray until we fall head-over-heels in love with God. Let us give away our money and time until we begin to love our neighbors as ourselves. Let us fast until our love for ourselves is no longer self-indulgent. When we look out and see the canyon between us and heaven, we want to move forward, we want to take the leap of faith, but we are afraid, afraid of many things, but especially frightened that we will begin to live a new life and soon fail and be laughed at for ever trying. Lent is our training ground, our opportunity to try out the life of the Saints. If we cannot be perfect all year-round, let us be perfect for forty days straight.
January 31, 2013 - Thursday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time
Hebrews 10:19-25
Psalm 24:1-6
Mark 4:21-25
Our first reading from Hebrews reminds us of our duty to our fellow Christians: “We must consider how to rouse one another to love and good works.” It is possible when trying to make progress in the spiritual life to confuse Christianity for one of those Eastern religions where a devoted person slowly achieves mastery and becomes very powerful, trying to become a Saint by mastering Christian spirituality. A Christian becomes a master only when they forget about themself.
When Hebrews tells us that “we should not stay away from our assembly, as is the custom of some, but encourage one another” a certain kind of selfishness is condemned, where a person thinks only of their own relationship with God and the progress they are making or failing to make. There may be a place for this kind of self-concern in the beginning stages of the Christian life, when the new Christian is actively converting bad habits of life. But just as an adolescent becomes an adult when they take responsibility for another, growing up in the faith means being less self-centered and more focused on others.
Eventually a serious Christian will reach a point where they have removed all attachment to sin and are ready to move on to the purpose of the Christian life: love of God and love of neighbor. This will not include the end of every sin or even the end of every tendency to sin. Though the Devil will always lie and call sin good, the attachment is broken when the lies are seen clearly and sins are committed with a sort of freedom which has all the potential for sanctity or for evil. It is a mistake when, upon reaching this point, the threshold of maturity, the Christian continues trying to root out every sin. This will never happen. We will be sinners until the day we rise.
The mature Christian instead ought to turn to those around them and love. They ought to forget themself and pay attention to others. This is the first way that a Christian becomes a shocking creature to the world. The world is not surprised by a person trying to make themself better. The world is astounded by someone who begins to truly encourage others. After all, we are lamps and Jesus did not light us in order to put us under a basket. After a lamp is lit, the lamp itself is forgotten and becomes useful.
Psalm 24:1-6
Mark 4:21-25
Our first reading from Hebrews reminds us of our duty to our fellow Christians: “We must consider how to rouse one another to love and good works.” It is possible when trying to make progress in the spiritual life to confuse Christianity for one of those Eastern religions where a devoted person slowly achieves mastery and becomes very powerful, trying to become a Saint by mastering Christian spirituality. A Christian becomes a master only when they forget about themself.
When Hebrews tells us that “we should not stay away from our assembly, as is the custom of some, but encourage one another” a certain kind of selfishness is condemned, where a person thinks only of their own relationship with God and the progress they are making or failing to make. There may be a place for this kind of self-concern in the beginning stages of the Christian life, when the new Christian is actively converting bad habits of life. But just as an adolescent becomes an adult when they take responsibility for another, growing up in the faith means being less self-centered and more focused on others.
Eventually a serious Christian will reach a point where they have removed all attachment to sin and are ready to move on to the purpose of the Christian life: love of God and love of neighbor. This will not include the end of every sin or even the end of every tendency to sin. Though the Devil will always lie and call sin good, the attachment is broken when the lies are seen clearly and sins are committed with a sort of freedom which has all the potential for sanctity or for evil. It is a mistake when, upon reaching this point, the threshold of maturity, the Christian continues trying to root out every sin. This will never happen. We will be sinners until the day we rise.
The mature Christian instead ought to turn to those around them and love. They ought to forget themself and pay attention to others. This is the first way that a Christian becomes a shocking creature to the world. The world is not surprised by a person trying to make themself better. The world is astounded by someone who begins to truly encourage others. After all, we are lamps and Jesus did not light us in order to put us under a basket. After a lamp is lit, the lamp itself is forgotten and becomes useful.
January 20, 2013 - Second Sunday in Ordinary Time
Isaiah 62:1-5
Psalm 96:1-3, 7-10
1 Corinthians 12:4-11
John 2:1-11
A struggle for us Christians is the lack of signs. Today we read about the first sign of our Lord, when we turned water into wine. When the people saw it, they knew that there was something there. Once they had tasted the wine, they were sure that Jesus was not ordinary. So why is it that the signs are so few and far between? Sure, there are miracles in the world today, but they happen so rarely that we would be lucky to be present for just one sign like that.
It was not always this way. From the writings of the early Church we know that signs used to accompany the Holy Spirit everywhere the Gospel was spread. Miracles happened left and right. St. Paul is cautioning the Christians to look beyond the signs, because they were so common that the danger was that they would be focused on the signs and forget the Spirit who causes the signs. Nevertheless, St. Paul assures these early Christians that each individual receives a manifestation of the Spirit. We know from other early Church writings that this period of common signs and miracles did not last. Shortly after the very early years of the Church, people were already wondering where all the signs had gone. So we wonder today. Why is it that so many people receive the Holy Spirit but so few have gifts of healing or tongues or prophecy? Why cannot every Christian heal people the way Jesus did, the way Peter and John and Paul did?
It seems there are two possibilities: either God wants it that way or we are failing in some way. The first option says that the early times were different. God needed to do something marvelous in the early times in order to get the Church started. Therefore, once the Church was well-established there was no longer a need for visible miracles happening constantly. God prefers that we come to believe in him without the magic. The second option says that there is something wrong with us. Somehow, we have not received the Holy Spirit, or if we did we are failing to make use of the power and manifestations promised in Scripture. People go out looking for new ways to receive the Holy Spirit: a laying on of hands in addition to Confirmation and Baptism. They call it the Baptism of the Holy Spirit, which leaves regular Baptism seeming boring and less important.
This is a very important question. If the reason why we do not turn water into wine is because God does not want it done right now, then we are doing fine. When God wants to do something amazing, he is free to do it, but in the meantime we will not demand signs like children at a magic show. But if the reason why we are not healing the sick and raising the dead is simply because we are failing to use the power which Jesus has given to his Church, then what a waste! I go to the hospital to visit the sick. I pray with them, but I do not lay hands on them and demand healing in the name of Jesus. Is that a failure? Would they be healed if I did that with more confidence?
The atheists laugh at Christians. We claim that we have a connection to the power who created the universe, the all-powerful God who can do anything and loves us and promised us that anything we ask would be ours, and then we are too timid to ask for anything very impressive. They say that it is because we are afraid that nothing will happen and then our claims will seem silly. Certainly I can point to this healing and that healing. To the boy who recently was born without knees and then grew knees in response to prayers, something that every doctor had said would never happen. To the innumerable cases of cancer that inexplicably disappear in response to prayer. If only it were more consistent, they would be unable to deny the power of God. So if it is because God chooses to be quiet and just out of scientific examination, then I wonder why but accept that he may do whatever he decides is best, but if Christianity is despised because we are failing to make use of the power that Jesus gave us, then we need to change that immediately.
When I look back at the 2000 years of Church history, one answer to the dilemma appears. There seems to be one sure way to bring miracles into existence. And it is not any laying on of hands or other invented sacrament. It is not any special prayer that suddenly was able to cause miracles to happen because the right words were finally being said. It is simply this: love. Love is the greatest gift of the Spirit. Love is the most power manifestation of God in the world. Without doubt, whenever someone chose to become an instrument of God’s love, miracles followed.
God does not wish to deny the world the healing that he can give, but the effects are rarely good when someone seeks to become the instrument of God’s extraordinary healing. We should not pursue the various charisms and powers of the Holy Spirit that are listed here: prophecy or tongues or mighty deeds or miraculous healing, but this does not give us a license to sit back and wait for God to do something if he wishes. We should pursue the greatest gift of the Holy Spirit: to love others, especially the poor and suffering and anyone else who is considered unlovable in this world. All of our efforts should be trained on that manifestation of the Holy Spirit, because when we begin loving others with more love than is humanly possible, that will be a greater proof of the Gospel than any other extraordinary sign. And then, as has been the case so many times before, when we forget those other gifts in the pursuit of love, we will find them. We do not need to try to become a Church full of people speaking in different tongues and prophesying, but if we become a Church full of people who love others, we will find that tongues and prophesy will appear when needed. When we visit the sick with the love of God, we will find that healings happen. God has a lot of things that he wants to do. He has specific way of manifesting his power through each person. There are miracles that he wants you to do. But unless we can learn to love first, nothing else is going to happen.
Psalm 96:1-3, 7-10
1 Corinthians 12:4-11
John 2:1-11
A struggle for us Christians is the lack of signs. Today we read about the first sign of our Lord, when we turned water into wine. When the people saw it, they knew that there was something there. Once they had tasted the wine, they were sure that Jesus was not ordinary. So why is it that the signs are so few and far between? Sure, there are miracles in the world today, but they happen so rarely that we would be lucky to be present for just one sign like that.
It was not always this way. From the writings of the early Church we know that signs used to accompany the Holy Spirit everywhere the Gospel was spread. Miracles happened left and right. St. Paul is cautioning the Christians to look beyond the signs, because they were so common that the danger was that they would be focused on the signs and forget the Spirit who causes the signs. Nevertheless, St. Paul assures these early Christians that each individual receives a manifestation of the Spirit. We know from other early Church writings that this period of common signs and miracles did not last. Shortly after the very early years of the Church, people were already wondering where all the signs had gone. So we wonder today. Why is it that so many people receive the Holy Spirit but so few have gifts of healing or tongues or prophecy? Why cannot every Christian heal people the way Jesus did, the way Peter and John and Paul did?
It seems there are two possibilities: either God wants it that way or we are failing in some way. The first option says that the early times were different. God needed to do something marvelous in the early times in order to get the Church started. Therefore, once the Church was well-established there was no longer a need for visible miracles happening constantly. God prefers that we come to believe in him without the magic. The second option says that there is something wrong with us. Somehow, we have not received the Holy Spirit, or if we did we are failing to make use of the power and manifestations promised in Scripture. People go out looking for new ways to receive the Holy Spirit: a laying on of hands in addition to Confirmation and Baptism. They call it the Baptism of the Holy Spirit, which leaves regular Baptism seeming boring and less important.
This is a very important question. If the reason why we do not turn water into wine is because God does not want it done right now, then we are doing fine. When God wants to do something amazing, he is free to do it, but in the meantime we will not demand signs like children at a magic show. But if the reason why we are not healing the sick and raising the dead is simply because we are failing to use the power which Jesus has given to his Church, then what a waste! I go to the hospital to visit the sick. I pray with them, but I do not lay hands on them and demand healing in the name of Jesus. Is that a failure? Would they be healed if I did that with more confidence?
The atheists laugh at Christians. We claim that we have a connection to the power who created the universe, the all-powerful God who can do anything and loves us and promised us that anything we ask would be ours, and then we are too timid to ask for anything very impressive. They say that it is because we are afraid that nothing will happen and then our claims will seem silly. Certainly I can point to this healing and that healing. To the boy who recently was born without knees and then grew knees in response to prayers, something that every doctor had said would never happen. To the innumerable cases of cancer that inexplicably disappear in response to prayer. If only it were more consistent, they would be unable to deny the power of God. So if it is because God chooses to be quiet and just out of scientific examination, then I wonder why but accept that he may do whatever he decides is best, but if Christianity is despised because we are failing to make use of the power that Jesus gave us, then we need to change that immediately.
When I look back at the 2000 years of Church history, one answer to the dilemma appears. There seems to be one sure way to bring miracles into existence. And it is not any laying on of hands or other invented sacrament. It is not any special prayer that suddenly was able to cause miracles to happen because the right words were finally being said. It is simply this: love. Love is the greatest gift of the Spirit. Love is the most power manifestation of God in the world. Without doubt, whenever someone chose to become an instrument of God’s love, miracles followed.
God does not wish to deny the world the healing that he can give, but the effects are rarely good when someone seeks to become the instrument of God’s extraordinary healing. We should not pursue the various charisms and powers of the Holy Spirit that are listed here: prophecy or tongues or mighty deeds or miraculous healing, but this does not give us a license to sit back and wait for God to do something if he wishes. We should pursue the greatest gift of the Holy Spirit: to love others, especially the poor and suffering and anyone else who is considered unlovable in this world. All of our efforts should be trained on that manifestation of the Holy Spirit, because when we begin loving others with more love than is humanly possible, that will be a greater proof of the Gospel than any other extraordinary sign. And then, as has been the case so many times before, when we forget those other gifts in the pursuit of love, we will find them. We do not need to try to become a Church full of people speaking in different tongues and prophesying, but if we become a Church full of people who love others, we will find that tongues and prophesy will appear when needed. When we visit the sick with the love of God, we will find that healings happen. God has a lot of things that he wants to do. He has specific way of manifesting his power through each person. There are miracles that he wants you to do. But unless we can learn to love first, nothing else is going to happen.
January 13, 2013 - Feast of the Baptism of the Lord
Isaiah 42:1-4, 6-7 or Is 40:1-5, 9-11
Psalm 29:1-4, 3, 9-10 or Psalm 104:1b-2, 3-4, 24-25, 27-28, 29-30
Acts 10: 34-38 or Titus 2:11-14; 3:4-7
Luke 3:15-16, 21-22
Merry Christmas! Today is the last day of Christmas, and the last day of the octave of the Epiphany. Last Sunday, we celebrated the epiphanies of Christ, and today we look closer at one of those epiphanies: the Baptism of our Lord. An epiphany is the sudden revelation of truth. Something we did not see before becomes as clear as day to us. An epiphany can be something simple, like realizing for the first time, after trying it many times, that coffee can really be delicious. Or an epiphany can be something more profound, like looking at a person whom you have known for years and realizing that you love them, or going to prayer like you have many times before but this time realizing how much God loves you. Often, when we have an epiphany, as soon we notice it, the reasons are already disappearing, falling out of our grasp. We never know what was so different about the thing we had looked at 1000 times before, but when we looked this time, we saw it as if with new eyes.
In today’s Gospel, the reason for the epiphany is clear: the Holy Spirit descends like a dove, and the voice of the Father speaks to his Son, saying, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” These signs are so incredible that they can inspire a multitude of epiphanies. The first epiphany is realizing who Jesus Christ actually is. All the people who knew Jesus, or thought that they knew him, when they heard that voice and saw that dove, realized that there was more to him than they had previously supposed. Jesus was a man like any of us. If he walked down the street, we would not recognize him. If he were sitting here right next to us, we would not notice. The people of his time did not recognize anything unusual, but then, whether it was here at the baptism or because of some other sign, they saw him, as if for the first time. “This man must be a prophet”, they realized. Or even, “This man must be God himself.” He was not baptized to be purified by the waters: he baptized the water. He made it become the fire with which we are baptized.
As St. Paul writes in our second reading, Jesus Christ is the epiphany of the grace of God. Throughout the Old Testament there are references to the appearance of the glory of the Lord. Usually there is darkness and fire and lightning and voice booming from heaven like thunder. When Ezekiel saw the appearance of the glory of the Lord, he spent pages describing the wheels and the wings and the one who seemed to be made of white gold and fire. Now, God has appeared among us, but, without an epiphany, no one would notice. But when the Father spoke those words, “You are my beloved Son. With you I am well pleased.” people finally notice that there is something different about him.
I wonder what it was like for Jesus to hear these words, “You are my beloved Son. With you I am well pleased.” Usually we think of him only as God, but he is also a human with feelings and desires. It must have filled him with such joy to be so affirmed. But God does not only say this to Jesus. He says to all of us, “You are my beloved son. You are my beloved daughter. With you I am well pleased.” When we see a baptism, what would we think if the sky opened up and the Holy Spirit came down like a dove and a voice spoke saying, ““You are my beloved son. With you I am well pleased.”? We would suddenly be very interested in the child. Who is this child? What is so special about him? But the answer of course is nothing, or rather the same thing that is special about every person. Whether we see it or not, the Holy Spirit does come down and the Father does say, “You are my beloved son. With you I am well pleased.”
This is an epiphany, to realize that God says this to us. When we hear the first part, “You are my beloved son, my beloved daughter”, we realize that this is who we are. We are not our jobs or our last names or how much money we have or even what degrees or certifications we hold. We are beloved children of God. And when we have that epiphany, we will have many others. We will look at money and wonder what we ever found so valuable about it. We will look at the awards and accomplishments of this world that we desired so greatly before and realize that they are nothing in comparison to this.
And God says to us the second part too, “With you I am well pleased.” He said it to Jesus, and we understand why. Jesus always did his Father’s will. Perhaps we are afraid that because of our sins God will not say this to us, but when he looks at us he does not see the sins. When he looks at us, he sees the person whom he made. He sees the work of his own hands. And is pleased, in spite of our sins. He sees what we are capable of, and he is pleased.
And then we must have another epiphany: if all of us are beloved sons and daughters, then they are too. All of them. The people we love. The people whom we ignore. The people whom we hate. God looks at them and says to them too, ““You are my beloved son, my beloved daughter. With you I am well pleased.” When we have that epiphany we will look at them and see them the way that God sees them. It is impossible to hate someone, no matter what they have done, when we see them as a beloved child of God. It is impossible to ignore someone when we see them in this way. When we look at someone and, even for a second, see them the way that God sees them, the only thing we can do is love them.
These are the epiphanies we have today: Jesus is God; we are beloved sons and daughters of God; and everyone else is a beloved child of God too.
Psalm 29:1-4, 3, 9-10 or Psalm 104:1b-2, 3-4, 24-25, 27-28, 29-30
Acts 10: 34-38 or Titus 2:11-14; 3:4-7
Luke 3:15-16, 21-22
Merry Christmas! Today is the last day of Christmas, and the last day of the octave of the Epiphany. Last Sunday, we celebrated the epiphanies of Christ, and today we look closer at one of those epiphanies: the Baptism of our Lord. An epiphany is the sudden revelation of truth. Something we did not see before becomes as clear as day to us. An epiphany can be something simple, like realizing for the first time, after trying it many times, that coffee can really be delicious. Or an epiphany can be something more profound, like looking at a person whom you have known for years and realizing that you love them, or going to prayer like you have many times before but this time realizing how much God loves you. Often, when we have an epiphany, as soon we notice it, the reasons are already disappearing, falling out of our grasp. We never know what was so different about the thing we had looked at 1000 times before, but when we looked this time, we saw it as if with new eyes.
In today’s Gospel, the reason for the epiphany is clear: the Holy Spirit descends like a dove, and the voice of the Father speaks to his Son, saying, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” These signs are so incredible that they can inspire a multitude of epiphanies. The first epiphany is realizing who Jesus Christ actually is. All the people who knew Jesus, or thought that they knew him, when they heard that voice and saw that dove, realized that there was more to him than they had previously supposed. Jesus was a man like any of us. If he walked down the street, we would not recognize him. If he were sitting here right next to us, we would not notice. The people of his time did not recognize anything unusual, but then, whether it was here at the baptism or because of some other sign, they saw him, as if for the first time. “This man must be a prophet”, they realized. Or even, “This man must be God himself.” He was not baptized to be purified by the waters: he baptized the water. He made it become the fire with which we are baptized.
As St. Paul writes in our second reading, Jesus Christ is the epiphany of the grace of God. Throughout the Old Testament there are references to the appearance of the glory of the Lord. Usually there is darkness and fire and lightning and voice booming from heaven like thunder. When Ezekiel saw the appearance of the glory of the Lord, he spent pages describing the wheels and the wings and the one who seemed to be made of white gold and fire. Now, God has appeared among us, but, without an epiphany, no one would notice. But when the Father spoke those words, “You are my beloved Son. With you I am well pleased.” people finally notice that there is something different about him.
I wonder what it was like for Jesus to hear these words, “You are my beloved Son. With you I am well pleased.” Usually we think of him only as God, but he is also a human with feelings and desires. It must have filled him with such joy to be so affirmed. But God does not only say this to Jesus. He says to all of us, “You are my beloved son. You are my beloved daughter. With you I am well pleased.” When we see a baptism, what would we think if the sky opened up and the Holy Spirit came down like a dove and a voice spoke saying, ““You are my beloved son. With you I am well pleased.”? We would suddenly be very interested in the child. Who is this child? What is so special about him? But the answer of course is nothing, or rather the same thing that is special about every person. Whether we see it or not, the Holy Spirit does come down and the Father does say, “You are my beloved son. With you I am well pleased.”
This is an epiphany, to realize that God says this to us. When we hear the first part, “You are my beloved son, my beloved daughter”, we realize that this is who we are. We are not our jobs or our last names or how much money we have or even what degrees or certifications we hold. We are beloved children of God. And when we have that epiphany, we will have many others. We will look at money and wonder what we ever found so valuable about it. We will look at the awards and accomplishments of this world that we desired so greatly before and realize that they are nothing in comparison to this.
And God says to us the second part too, “With you I am well pleased.” He said it to Jesus, and we understand why. Jesus always did his Father’s will. Perhaps we are afraid that because of our sins God will not say this to us, but when he looks at us he does not see the sins. When he looks at us, he sees the person whom he made. He sees the work of his own hands. And is pleased, in spite of our sins. He sees what we are capable of, and he is pleased.
And then we must have another epiphany: if all of us are beloved sons and daughters, then they are too. All of them. The people we love. The people whom we ignore. The people whom we hate. God looks at them and says to them too, ““You are my beloved son, my beloved daughter. With you I am well pleased.” When we have that epiphany we will look at them and see them the way that God sees them. It is impossible to hate someone, no matter what they have done, when we see them as a beloved child of God. It is impossible to ignore someone when we see them in this way. When we look at someone and, even for a second, see them the way that God sees them, the only thing we can do is love them.
These are the epiphanies we have today: Jesus is God; we are beloved sons and daughters of God; and everyone else is a beloved child of God too.
January 8, 2013 - Second Day after Epiphany
1 John 4:7-10
Psalm 72:1-4, 7-8
Mark 6:34-44
God is love. There is nothing we can do that is so divine as to love. No physical achievement nor any intellectual accomplishment compares to love. A human being should not be valued by what they can do nor by how intelligent they are, but by how much love they have. Indeed, since love is this: not that we love God but that he loves us, a human ought to be valued according to how much God loves them.
Every person is loveable. This is proven because God loves them, no matter how young or old, whether weak or disabled. That is the truth, and we live the truth inasmuch as we love these loveable people. We live a lie when we do not love them even though they are loveable. Sin is a lie. In order to sin, we must pretend that someone is not loveable. If we spent our whole lives in love with everyone and above all in love with God, we would never sin. God created us to be in love. That is the natural state of a human being.
The world loves love. The world is filled with love stories and love songs. The story of Piramus and Thisbe whispering their love for each other is very ancient, and how many other love stories and love songs have been forgotten? So why is there any conflict between God and the world? If God is love and the world loves love, why does the world not love God and every person he loves? If the commandment of God were to stop loving, then the world could say that love is too important. But instead God tells the world to increase its love.
We are afraid to love so much because to love everyone, all the time, would be exhausting. It is more than we can accomplish. But this is love: not that we have loved but that he has loved us. The love comes from him. Even when we love someone else, we are simply letting some of God’s love for them flow through us. What a privilege that he allows us to participate in his love! We become divine as we let love flow freely through us to others. We must not be afraid of the burden of loving others. It only seems like a burden while we fight it. God is the love with which we love if we let him love through us.
Psalm 72:1-4, 7-8
Mark 6:34-44
God is love. There is nothing we can do that is so divine as to love. No physical achievement nor any intellectual accomplishment compares to love. A human being should not be valued by what they can do nor by how intelligent they are, but by how much love they have. Indeed, since love is this: not that we love God but that he loves us, a human ought to be valued according to how much God loves them.
Every person is loveable. This is proven because God loves them, no matter how young or old, whether weak or disabled. That is the truth, and we live the truth inasmuch as we love these loveable people. We live a lie when we do not love them even though they are loveable. Sin is a lie. In order to sin, we must pretend that someone is not loveable. If we spent our whole lives in love with everyone and above all in love with God, we would never sin. God created us to be in love. That is the natural state of a human being.
The world loves love. The world is filled with love stories and love songs. The story of Piramus and Thisbe whispering their love for each other is very ancient, and how many other love stories and love songs have been forgotten? So why is there any conflict between God and the world? If God is love and the world loves love, why does the world not love God and every person he loves? If the commandment of God were to stop loving, then the world could say that love is too important. But instead God tells the world to increase its love.
We are afraid to love so much because to love everyone, all the time, would be exhausting. It is more than we can accomplish. But this is love: not that we have loved but that he has loved us. The love comes from him. Even when we love someone else, we are simply letting some of God’s love for them flow through us. What a privilege that he allows us to participate in his love! We become divine as we let love flow freely through us to others. We must not be afraid of the burden of loving others. It only seems like a burden while we fight it. God is the love with which we love if we let him love through us.
November 4, 2012 - Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)
Deuteronomy 6:2-6
Psalm 18:2-4, 47, 51
Hebrews 7:23-28
Mark 12:28-34
The debate that the scribe brings to Jesus today is about the first commandment. The scribes often would debate this question. The issue is which commandment overrides the others. If I can only follow one of the commandments, which one should it be? So, for instance, we should not steal, but we should go to Mass on Sunday. So what if the only way to get to Mass on Sunday is to steal a car? Which commandment takes priority? What if we choose a different commandment, about feeding the poor? What if there is someone starving and the only way to feed them is to steal food, should we do it? The scribes used to debate questions like this all the time. Some would say that the first commandment is the Sabbath. Others would say that the first commandment is the sacrifice at the Temple. So a scribe goes up to Jesus today and asks him his opinion on this debate.
Jesus answers the question directly. He does not duck it. He goes back to the Old Testament law, to the first reading we had today, and says, “Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is Lord alone! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.” And then he adds from another part of the law, “The second is this: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.” In other words, the law of love is above every other law.
What is love? Love is a feeling. We know this, but it also must be something more than a feeling. If God commanded love in the Old Testament, and Jesus says that these two commandments of love are the most important commandments of all, love has to be an action too. Because how could God command us to feel a certain way? There is no way to make ourselves feel love for someone. We either do or we do not. Love has to be some kind of action that we can do. When these actions come naturally without even trying, that is what it means to be in love. But when they do not come naturally, we are still free to do them. We just have to make a decision to continue loving. The feeling is enough to get started, but eventually, every love requires work.
Blessed John Paul II wrote a book about the actions of love; he said that there are three parts. The three parts apply to every way we mean love: love of God, love of a spouse, love of family, love of the poor. The first part is attraction: thinking about how good the other person is. When we are in love, that is all we can do, even to the point of being blinded, but we can also do it by working at it. The first action of loving God is to think about how good he is: all that he has done for us, and how wonderful he is in himself. The first action of loving a person in need is to consider how good they are, that they are a human being with all the dignity that implies and their own personal accomplishments and talents. Then the person does not get defined by their need; the person is no longer just a problem to solve but an individual with so much to love about them.
The second part of love is desire: desiring to be with the other person. Again, when we are in love, that is all we desire. A person in love can forget to eat or sleep because they only want to be with the one they love. And this too can be done by anyone by working at it, not the desire but the being with. The second action of loving God is to spend time with him. It is what we are doing right now. Perhaps some of you did not have a great desire to come here this morning, but you are still here. With or without the desire, you have chosen to come spend time with God. When we love someone in need, we spend time with them. The need for human contact is just as real as whatever else they need.
The third action of love is doing good. When we are in love we want to bring presents and other ways of showing this love. If there is any way we can help the one we love, we are just as grateful to have the opportunity to help as they could ever be to receive help. When we love God we do good things for him. Of course this is difficult because he does not need anything from us. But Jesus says that what we do for the least of our brothers, we do for him. When we serve someone in need it is an act of love not only for them, but also for God. In this way, the love of neighbor is part of the love of God. Since we love God, we have to love his children too.
The feeling of love is perhaps the greatest feeling in all of existence. God gave us the ability to be in love because he wanted us to know how wonderful love is. But the actions of love are greater than the feeling. If we are in love with the feeling of love, we are like addicts going after our next hit. To simply chase that feeling misses the point. It is delightful when it is there because it makes it so easy to love, but the real accomplishment is loving when the feeling goes away.
When we begin following God, we often have that feeling of being in love, but then it goes away. Sometimes people think that they have done something wrong or that they were mistaken in their feelings in the first place. God is trying to draw us closer. When we begin serving the poor in a new way, we can have that feeling of being in love, and then it goes away. The test is whether we continue the actions of love without the feeling. Not because God is just trying to test us, but because if we do we will have something greater. Being young and in love is wonderful, but being married for fifty years, through good times and bad, never giving up on love, is better. Going on a mission trip and being on fire to help others is great, but serving the poor for fifty years, through good times and bad, never giving up on love, is better. Going to prayer and having an experience of love that brings us right up to heaven is amazing, but spending a whole life drawing close to God, through good times and bad, never giving up on love, is what it means to love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.
Psalm 18:2-4, 47, 51
Hebrews 7:23-28
Mark 12:28-34
The debate that the scribe brings to Jesus today is about the first commandment. The scribes often would debate this question. The issue is which commandment overrides the others. If I can only follow one of the commandments, which one should it be? So, for instance, we should not steal, but we should go to Mass on Sunday. So what if the only way to get to Mass on Sunday is to steal a car? Which commandment takes priority? What if we choose a different commandment, about feeding the poor? What if there is someone starving and the only way to feed them is to steal food, should we do it? The scribes used to debate questions like this all the time. Some would say that the first commandment is the Sabbath. Others would say that the first commandment is the sacrifice at the Temple. So a scribe goes up to Jesus today and asks him his opinion on this debate.
Jesus answers the question directly. He does not duck it. He goes back to the Old Testament law, to the first reading we had today, and says, “Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is Lord alone! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.” And then he adds from another part of the law, “The second is this: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.” In other words, the law of love is above every other law.
What is love? Love is a feeling. We know this, but it also must be something more than a feeling. If God commanded love in the Old Testament, and Jesus says that these two commandments of love are the most important commandments of all, love has to be an action too. Because how could God command us to feel a certain way? There is no way to make ourselves feel love for someone. We either do or we do not. Love has to be some kind of action that we can do. When these actions come naturally without even trying, that is what it means to be in love. But when they do not come naturally, we are still free to do them. We just have to make a decision to continue loving. The feeling is enough to get started, but eventually, every love requires work.
Blessed John Paul II wrote a book about the actions of love; he said that there are three parts. The three parts apply to every way we mean love: love of God, love of a spouse, love of family, love of the poor. The first part is attraction: thinking about how good the other person is. When we are in love, that is all we can do, even to the point of being blinded, but we can also do it by working at it. The first action of loving God is to think about how good he is: all that he has done for us, and how wonderful he is in himself. The first action of loving a person in need is to consider how good they are, that they are a human being with all the dignity that implies and their own personal accomplishments and talents. Then the person does not get defined by their need; the person is no longer just a problem to solve but an individual with so much to love about them.
The second part of love is desire: desiring to be with the other person. Again, when we are in love, that is all we desire. A person in love can forget to eat or sleep because they only want to be with the one they love. And this too can be done by anyone by working at it, not the desire but the being with. The second action of loving God is to spend time with him. It is what we are doing right now. Perhaps some of you did not have a great desire to come here this morning, but you are still here. With or without the desire, you have chosen to come spend time with God. When we love someone in need, we spend time with them. The need for human contact is just as real as whatever else they need.
The third action of love is doing good. When we are in love we want to bring presents and other ways of showing this love. If there is any way we can help the one we love, we are just as grateful to have the opportunity to help as they could ever be to receive help. When we love God we do good things for him. Of course this is difficult because he does not need anything from us. But Jesus says that what we do for the least of our brothers, we do for him. When we serve someone in need it is an act of love not only for them, but also for God. In this way, the love of neighbor is part of the love of God. Since we love God, we have to love his children too.
The feeling of love is perhaps the greatest feeling in all of existence. God gave us the ability to be in love because he wanted us to know how wonderful love is. But the actions of love are greater than the feeling. If we are in love with the feeling of love, we are like addicts going after our next hit. To simply chase that feeling misses the point. It is delightful when it is there because it makes it so easy to love, but the real accomplishment is loving when the feeling goes away.
When we begin following God, we often have that feeling of being in love, but then it goes away. Sometimes people think that they have done something wrong or that they were mistaken in their feelings in the first place. God is trying to draw us closer. When we begin serving the poor in a new way, we can have that feeling of being in love, and then it goes away. The test is whether we continue the actions of love without the feeling. Not because God is just trying to test us, but because if we do we will have something greater. Being young and in love is wonderful, but being married for fifty years, through good times and bad, never giving up on love, is better. Going on a mission trip and being on fire to help others is great, but serving the poor for fifty years, through good times and bad, never giving up on love, is better. Going to prayer and having an experience of love that brings us right up to heaven is amazing, but spending a whole life drawing close to God, through good times and bad, never giving up on love, is what it means to love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.
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