Jeremiah 18:18-20
Psalm 31:5-6, 14-16
Matthew 20:17-28
Jesus always knew what was going on. He was not caught up in events beyond his control. Even before he went to Jerusalem, he not only prophesied his death and resurrection, but even described how it would all take place. When we hear the story of his passion in a few weeks, we must keep today’s Gospel in mind. Jesus did what he did on purpose. Nothing could have been done to him if he had not allowed it to happen. There is nothing he suffered that he did not choose to suffer. This does not take away the guilt of those who betrayed him and condemned him and scourged him and mocked him and crucified him; they also chose to do what they were doing. Jesus, however, must be seen throughout all this as one who came “to give his life”, not someone who had it taken from him.
What does it mean for Jesus “to give his life as a ransom for many”? A ransom is the price paid to a captor for the freedom of the captives. Who is our captor? Satan. Sin. Death. We sold ourselves into captivity for a fruit. We were meant to be free. We were supposed to be kings and queens of this earth. Instead, we have spent the majority of human history in captivity. Satan demanded the life of an innocent man for ransom, and Jesus paid it with his own life. Only he could pay it, because he was the only innocent man. His life could not be taken from him, but he could lay it down. What Satan did not know was that, having laid it down, he could take it up again.
The ransom has been paid, so Satan is forced to release us, if we will be free. Jesus unlocked the door of the dungeon that is sin, but we have to choose to walk out. This should not be difficult, the choice to leave sin behind, but we are enamored with the little comforts that we have found in this filthy prison cell. We must somehow work up the courage to leave! How foolish we look, choosing to stay in the dark, dirty prison, rather than go out into the light. We hear voices, whispering, enticing us to stay. We are frightened of what “going out” means. So we stay, in sin, ransomed prisoners who will not leave their prison.
Daily Homilies
Showing posts with label Redemption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Redemption. Show all posts
February 27, 2013 - Wednesday of the Second Week of Lent
Jeremiah 18:18-20
Psalm 31:5-6, 14-16
Matthew 20:17-28
Jesus always knew what was going on. He was not caught up in events beyond his control. Even before he went to Jerusalem, he not only prophesied his death and resurrection, but even described how it would all take place. When we hear the story of his passion in a few weeks, we must keep today’s Gospel in mind. Jesus did what he did on purpose. Nothing could have been done to him if he had not allowed it to happen. There is nothing he suffered that he did not choose to suffer. This does not take away the guilt of those who betrayed him and condemned him and scourged him and mocked him and crucified him; they also chose to do what they were doing. Jesus, however, must be seen throughout all this as one who came “to give his life”, not someone who had it taken from him.
What does it mean for Jesus “to give his life as a ransom for many”? A ransom is the price paid to a captor for the freedom of the captives. Who is our captor? Satan. Sin. Death. We sold ourselves into captivity for a fruit. We were meant to be free. We were supposed to be kings and queens of this earth. Instead, we have spent the majority of human history in captivity. Satan demanded the life of an innocent man for ransom, and Jesus paid it with his own life. Only he could pay it, because he was the only innocent man. His life could not be taken from him, but he could lay it down. What Satan did not know was that, having laid it down, he could take it up again.
The ransom has been paid, so Satan is forced to release us, if we will be free. Jesus unlocked the door of the dungeon that is sin, but we have to choose to walk out. This should not be difficult, the choice to leave sin behind, but we are enamored with the little comforts that we have found in this filthy prison cell. We must somehow work up the courage to leave! How foolish we look, choosing to stay in the dark, dirty prison, rather than go out into the light. We hear voices, whispering, enticing us to stay. We are frightened of what “going out” means. So we stay, in sin, ransomed prisoners who will not leave.
Psalm 31:5-6, 14-16
Matthew 20:17-28
Jesus always knew what was going on. He was not caught up in events beyond his control. Even before he went to Jerusalem, he not only prophesied his death and resurrection, but even described how it would all take place. When we hear the story of his passion in a few weeks, we must keep today’s Gospel in mind. Jesus did what he did on purpose. Nothing could have been done to him if he had not allowed it to happen. There is nothing he suffered that he did not choose to suffer. This does not take away the guilt of those who betrayed him and condemned him and scourged him and mocked him and crucified him; they also chose to do what they were doing. Jesus, however, must be seen throughout all this as one who came “to give his life”, not someone who had it taken from him.
What does it mean for Jesus “to give his life as a ransom for many”? A ransom is the price paid to a captor for the freedom of the captives. Who is our captor? Satan. Sin. Death. We sold ourselves into captivity for a fruit. We were meant to be free. We were supposed to be kings and queens of this earth. Instead, we have spent the majority of human history in captivity. Satan demanded the life of an innocent man for ransom, and Jesus paid it with his own life. Only he could pay it, because he was the only innocent man. His life could not be taken from him, but he could lay it down. What Satan did not know was that, having laid it down, he could take it up again.
The ransom has been paid, so Satan is forced to release us, if we will be free. Jesus unlocked the door of the dungeon that is sin, but we have to choose to walk out. This should not be difficult, the choice to leave sin behind, but we are enamored with the little comforts that we have found in this filthy prison cell. We must somehow work up the courage to leave! How foolish we look, choosing to stay in the dark, dirty prison, rather than go out into the light. We hear voices, whispering, enticing us to stay. We are frightened of what “going out” means. So we stay, in sin, ransomed prisoners who will not leave.
April 5, 2012 - Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion
Today's Readings
“But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed.”
We have just listened to a description of a man being wounded. Jesus Christ is God, and so the wounds we have heard about are the wounds of God himself. This required the miracle of the Incarnation. God has created the entire universe and he can create anything he wills. Yet there is something he could not do. He could not suffer. He could not be harmed. We have advanced in technology until we have created weapons capable of destroying all life on earth, but we are no nearer to being able to hurt God than the first people on earth. We have created missiles which can shoot across the earth and into space, but there is no missile capable of reaching to heaven. We have bombs powerful enough to level every building in the largest city in the world, but there is no bomb powerful enough to cause God to suffer.
And so he had to become human in order to suffer. He needed a body like ours, made of fragile flesh in order to feel the pain inflicted on him by men. He needed to have blood beneath a weak wall of skin in order that he might bleed for our sins. God has nothing to do with weakness, so he became weak like us.
We know that Jesus died for our sins, but he also suffered for them. We know that he redeemed us on the Cross, but Isaiah tells us that “he was wounded for our transgressions.” We know that he died in our place, but Isaiah tells us that “he was crushed for our iniquities.” Do the images of our suffering Lord, so cruelly scourged seem barbaric? Do his wounds offend our sensibilities? Then why have we caused them?
“No,” we say, “I did not whip him, that was the work of those cruel Roman soldiers.” But the soldiers were merely carrying out the orders of those who called for the scourging. Every cast of the whip was done on command. “But I did not command that he be scourged. That was Pontius Pilate, the Governor of Judea.” However, Pilate only had the power given him from above. Jesus could only be scourged if he allowed himself to be scourged. Why would Jesus have allowed himself to suffer in this way? At your command and mine. Every sin we have committed is such a command. Every time we considered whether we would follow God’s law or our own desires, and chose to sin, we insisted that God suffer for us. We know the consequences of our sins. We have read that “He was wounded for our transgressions.” We have heard it said that “he was crushed for our iniquities.” Yet still we transgress the law. Yet still we are filled with iniquity. Still we command the soldiers to scourge our Lord.
Consider the great power we have over God that we might command him. Do not be deceived: the source of this power is not to be found by looking at your own abilities. The source of this power is not contained within the strength of humans. We can only command God by the power of his love. We command God to be scourged as a toddler commands his mother to save him from a fire. We command God to be wounded as a wife commands her husband to care for her when she is deathly ill. We command God to suffer for us because he loves us.
How great is this love which came down from heaven and bore the weight of the cross. How great is this love that does not cry out as the beloved kicks and screams and does whatever he can to hurt his only hope. How great is this love! How great is his love and how small is ours. He has no reason loves us, but he does. We have every reason to love him, but we do not. We choose again and again to sin. Perhaps we doubt that there can be any hope for us. Yet there is indeed hope for us: “By his stripes we are healed.”
There is then a healing. This is not merely a band-aid on our wounds. This is not an amputation that destroys what has been injured. This is not concealer to cover a scar that remains. This is healing. God made us, and we injured ourselves by our sin. And he heals us. “Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied.” God is no minimalist. He will not be satisfied with anything less than our final and complete healing. “By his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous.” We will be accounted righteous. We sinners will be accounted righteous! How can this be? God knows all things. He is truth. We would not be accounted righteous unless we actually were righteous. And how shall we become righteous? “By his stripes we are healed.”
The fact that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” is indisputable. Truthfully, our human nature, which was given to us at creation spotless and without fault, was wounded grievously at the fall of Adam. Yet by his stripes we are healed. And truthfully, God had so loved the world that he gave his only Son, but we do not love God enough to turn our lives over to that only Son, who was so cruelly tortured for our sins.
So, when we look upon our Lord, and we contemplate how wounded his body was after the scourging, and how tired he was as he carried the Cross, and how every wound was constantly renewed by the continuous punishments he endured, when we look upon this body so torn by whips, we ought to be stunned by guilt and amazed by Love. We are guilty because we caused someone who loved us so much to endure so much because we have sinned so much. We know we are loved because only love allows a person to suffer torments by the hand of their beloved whom the torments shall save. We know we are doubly guilty because the tortures were both for us and by us. We know we are infinitely loved, because our lover was infinitely debased for our sake.
How should we react to the sight of our Lord so injured? No amount of sorrow would be equal to the occasion. Even if we were not guilty, this is the suffering of our Creator. It ought to be, to us, like the suffering of a parent. But we are guilty, doubly guilty. How can we look upon our Savior thus injured and not die of grief except that we have so little capacity to act according to strict justice. If we knew that we were to suffer the same punishment next Friday, we would spend the entire week in a state of fright and deep sorrow. Yet we are guilty of so many sins and would deserve such a punishment.
How should we react to the sight of our Lord so injured? No amount of joy can be equal to the occasion. Here we see the stripes by which we shall be healed. Here we see the only power in the world that could save us from our sins. Here we see such a proof of unconditional love so great that no power on earth can ever destroy it, not even our own disdain and hatred.
Truly this is a sign of contradiction! In the suffering Christ we see that the world is both worse and better than it ought to be. The more we are willing to acknowledge our sins, the more sorrow we have for their gravity and number, the greater will our joy be. When the realization that I, even I, am loved by God is no mere pious claim but an accusation of how greatly I have spurned the one who has loved me even unto suffering, even unto death, then I can experience the true joy of knowing that my salvation is secure so long as I will have it. Since my sins are healed by his wounds and his wounds are created by my sins, there will never be a shortage of wounds to heal my sins. As a Christian this is my greatest sorrow and my greatest joy. He was wounded for our transgressions and by his wounds we are healed.
“But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed.”
We have just listened to a description of a man being wounded. Jesus Christ is God, and so the wounds we have heard about are the wounds of God himself. This required the miracle of the Incarnation. God has created the entire universe and he can create anything he wills. Yet there is something he could not do. He could not suffer. He could not be harmed. We have advanced in technology until we have created weapons capable of destroying all life on earth, but we are no nearer to being able to hurt God than the first people on earth. We have created missiles which can shoot across the earth and into space, but there is no missile capable of reaching to heaven. We have bombs powerful enough to level every building in the largest city in the world, but there is no bomb powerful enough to cause God to suffer.
And so he had to become human in order to suffer. He needed a body like ours, made of fragile flesh in order to feel the pain inflicted on him by men. He needed to have blood beneath a weak wall of skin in order that he might bleed for our sins. God has nothing to do with weakness, so he became weak like us.
We know that Jesus died for our sins, but he also suffered for them. We know that he redeemed us on the Cross, but Isaiah tells us that “he was wounded for our transgressions.” We know that he died in our place, but Isaiah tells us that “he was crushed for our iniquities.” Do the images of our suffering Lord, so cruelly scourged seem barbaric? Do his wounds offend our sensibilities? Then why have we caused them?
“No,” we say, “I did not whip him, that was the work of those cruel Roman soldiers.” But the soldiers were merely carrying out the orders of those who called for the scourging. Every cast of the whip was done on command. “But I did not command that he be scourged. That was Pontius Pilate, the Governor of Judea.” However, Pilate only had the power given him from above. Jesus could only be scourged if he allowed himself to be scourged. Why would Jesus have allowed himself to suffer in this way? At your command and mine. Every sin we have committed is such a command. Every time we considered whether we would follow God’s law or our own desires, and chose to sin, we insisted that God suffer for us. We know the consequences of our sins. We have read that “He was wounded for our transgressions.” We have heard it said that “he was crushed for our iniquities.” Yet still we transgress the law. Yet still we are filled with iniquity. Still we command the soldiers to scourge our Lord.
Consider the great power we have over God that we might command him. Do not be deceived: the source of this power is not to be found by looking at your own abilities. The source of this power is not contained within the strength of humans. We can only command God by the power of his love. We command God to be scourged as a toddler commands his mother to save him from a fire. We command God to be wounded as a wife commands her husband to care for her when she is deathly ill. We command God to suffer for us because he loves us.
How great is this love which came down from heaven and bore the weight of the cross. How great is this love that does not cry out as the beloved kicks and screams and does whatever he can to hurt his only hope. How great is this love! How great is his love and how small is ours. He has no reason loves us, but he does. We have every reason to love him, but we do not. We choose again and again to sin. Perhaps we doubt that there can be any hope for us. Yet there is indeed hope for us: “By his stripes we are healed.”
There is then a healing. This is not merely a band-aid on our wounds. This is not an amputation that destroys what has been injured. This is not concealer to cover a scar that remains. This is healing. God made us, and we injured ourselves by our sin. And he heals us. “Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied.” God is no minimalist. He will not be satisfied with anything less than our final and complete healing. “By his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous.” We will be accounted righteous. We sinners will be accounted righteous! How can this be? God knows all things. He is truth. We would not be accounted righteous unless we actually were righteous. And how shall we become righteous? “By his stripes we are healed.”
The fact that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” is indisputable. Truthfully, our human nature, which was given to us at creation spotless and without fault, was wounded grievously at the fall of Adam. Yet by his stripes we are healed. And truthfully, God had so loved the world that he gave his only Son, but we do not love God enough to turn our lives over to that only Son, who was so cruelly tortured for our sins.
So, when we look upon our Lord, and we contemplate how wounded his body was after the scourging, and how tired he was as he carried the Cross, and how every wound was constantly renewed by the continuous punishments he endured, when we look upon this body so torn by whips, we ought to be stunned by guilt and amazed by Love. We are guilty because we caused someone who loved us so much to endure so much because we have sinned so much. We know we are loved because only love allows a person to suffer torments by the hand of their beloved whom the torments shall save. We know we are doubly guilty because the tortures were both for us and by us. We know we are infinitely loved, because our lover was infinitely debased for our sake.
How should we react to the sight of our Lord so injured? No amount of sorrow would be equal to the occasion. Even if we were not guilty, this is the suffering of our Creator. It ought to be, to us, like the suffering of a parent. But we are guilty, doubly guilty. How can we look upon our Savior thus injured and not die of grief except that we have so little capacity to act according to strict justice. If we knew that we were to suffer the same punishment next Friday, we would spend the entire week in a state of fright and deep sorrow. Yet we are guilty of so many sins and would deserve such a punishment.
How should we react to the sight of our Lord so injured? No amount of joy can be equal to the occasion. Here we see the stripes by which we shall be healed. Here we see the only power in the world that could save us from our sins. Here we see such a proof of unconditional love so great that no power on earth can ever destroy it, not even our own disdain and hatred.
Truly this is a sign of contradiction! In the suffering Christ we see that the world is both worse and better than it ought to be. The more we are willing to acknowledge our sins, the more sorrow we have for their gravity and number, the greater will our joy be. When the realization that I, even I, am loved by God is no mere pious claim but an accusation of how greatly I have spurned the one who has loved me even unto suffering, even unto death, then I can experience the true joy of knowing that my salvation is secure so long as I will have it. Since my sins are healed by his wounds and his wounds are created by my sins, there will never be a shortage of wounds to heal my sins. As a Christian this is my greatest sorrow and my greatest joy. He was wounded for our transgressions and by his wounds we are healed.
April 5, 2012 - Holy Thursday, Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper
Today's Readings
Tonight we recall how, on the night before his death, our Lord chose to eat a meal with his disciples. It was not an ordinary meal. It probably would have looked ordinary to the uninitiated: bread and wine, yet we know that the bread was his body and the wine was his blood. We know this because he said so, and he is the truth, and he cannot lie. “The Lord Jesus, on the night he was handed over, took bread, and, after he had given thanks, broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you.”
In the ancient law, the father of each family had to provide a lamb. This lamb was killed, and it became a sacrifice which prevented the angel of death from striking within that house. Under the new law, our Father in heaven has provided a lamb, the Lamb of God. If a family was not big enough for one lamb, two families came together and shared a lamb. The Lamb of God is sufficient for the whole world. This Lamb became a sacrifice which takes away the sins of the world. Because this Lamb still lives, even though he died, we will never need another. We are marked by the blood of this lamb, so death can pass over us. There is no reason to fear death so long as we have participated in this sacrifice. By this sacrifice we join in the death of Jesus Christ, so we have a sure hope of joining in his Resurrection.
Jesus is the Lamb of God, but this sacrifice was different than the sacrifice of the lambs. Soon after the meal, the disciples saw Jesus give his body and blood for the whole world. The lambs were eaten after they were killed, but Jesus was not constrained by time. Even before the sacrifice, he was able to present his body and blood. The body and blood that he presented to them is clearly the body and blood that he offered the next day; it is clearly the body and blood that rose from the dead on Easter. It is his Body and Blood. This bread and this cup are a participation in the death of Christ, “for as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.”
Jesus is the Lamb of God, but this sacrifice was different than the sacrifice of the lambs. The Israelites ate the body of the lamb, but they did not drink the blood. God had said that the blood of an animal is the life of that animal, so he forbid them from drinking blood. The life of an animal belonged to God, so the blood was poured out on the altar. In this sacrifice, we drink the blood because the life of Christ was poured out for us. The lifeblood of Christ belongs to us, since he has given it to us. Some of the lambs’ blood was used to mark the doorway as a symbol that the angel of death should pass over that house. So now we drink the blood of the Lamb of God so that this blood will mark our souls.
“A person should examine themself, and so eat the bread and drink the cup, for anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on themself.” What we receive is not ordinary food. It is a real symbol, which is to say that it actually is what it symbolizes. It symbolizes the Body of Jesus Christ, so it actually is the Body of Jesus Christ. It symbolizes the Blood of Jesus Christ, so it actually is the Blood of Jesus Christ. By eating and drinking this Body and Blood, we symbolize our participation in the death of Jesus Christ, so we actually participate in his death.
Let no one be deceived and believe that it is your own thoughts or your own faith which makes the bread and wine into the Body and Blood. It is only the words of Jesus: “This is my Body.” “This is the cup of my Blood.”, spoken by one who has the authority to say the words, an authority that comes from the Apostles to whom Jesus said: “Do this in memory of me.” So let us examine ourselves and not eat and drink judgment on ourselves. We must receive the Body and Blood with faith, not because our faith makes it so, but because it is so and we should only receive if we believe.
When you are invited to dinner, consider carefully before you eat because you must provide the same sort of meal yourself in return. When we sit down to this sacrificial meal, we ought to consider carefully what is set before us, since we must provide the same kind of meal ourselves. When we eat the Body of Christ, we become willing to give up our own bodies. When we drink the Blood of Christ, we become willing to shed our own blood. When we eat this body and drink this blood, we proclaim his death until he comes in glory. This is not a verbal proclamation but proclamation of action. Truly, we proclaim his death when we eat the body and drink the blood which he gave up for us through his death, but this should not be the limit of our proclamation; it should be the beginning and the end, the source and the summit.
We are what we eat. If we eat the proclamation of the death of Christ, we must become the proclamation of the death of Christ. At the Last Supper, Jesus washed the feet of his disciples and told them, “I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.” The washing of feet is a symbol. Everything that Jesus did for us, we are called to do for our brothers. Did he serve us? Then we should serve others. Did he love us? Then we should love others. Did he forgive us? Then we should forgive others. Did he die for us? Then we should die for others. Did he give us his body and blood? Then we should give our bodies and our blood for others.
We are what we eat. If we eat the Body of Christ, we become the Body of Christ. Someone here is the hand of Christ. Someone here is the feet of Christ. Someone here is the heart of Christ, beating with love. Together we are the Body of Christ, with Jesus Christ as our head. If we eat this body and drink this blood, anything we do, Christ does, since we are part of the Body of Christ. If we eat this body and drink this blood, we must act in a manner worthy of our call. If we eat this body and then sin, we have brought sin upon the Body of Christ. If we drink this blood and then hate someone, we have brought hatred into the Blood of Christ. No longer is any sin a small sin. No longer is any sin a private failing. If we have chosen to be part of the Body of Christ, we must also choose to be perfect. When we fall short of perfection, we must confess our sins and be forgiven.
Our Lord Jesus Christ borrowed from us humanity and took it to himself. Tonight he gives it back to us. If we participate in his humanity, entirely, we will be saved. His humanity is a life preserver thrown from heaven to us who are drowning. We must cling to it. There is nothing here on earth that can save us; we cannot save ourselves. We are saved not by imitation but by participation. If you try to be like Christ, you will fail. We must participate in his Body, by eating his Body and drinking his Blood. Then we will participate in the life of Christ, a life of service and self-giving. Then we can participate in the death of Christ, a perfect sacrifice. And only then can we participate in the Resurrection of Christ.
Tonight we recall how, on the night before his death, our Lord chose to eat a meal with his disciples. It was not an ordinary meal. It probably would have looked ordinary to the uninitiated: bread and wine, yet we know that the bread was his body and the wine was his blood. We know this because he said so, and he is the truth, and he cannot lie. “The Lord Jesus, on the night he was handed over, took bread, and, after he had given thanks, broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you.”
In the ancient law, the father of each family had to provide a lamb. This lamb was killed, and it became a sacrifice which prevented the angel of death from striking within that house. Under the new law, our Father in heaven has provided a lamb, the Lamb of God. If a family was not big enough for one lamb, two families came together and shared a lamb. The Lamb of God is sufficient for the whole world. This Lamb became a sacrifice which takes away the sins of the world. Because this Lamb still lives, even though he died, we will never need another. We are marked by the blood of this lamb, so death can pass over us. There is no reason to fear death so long as we have participated in this sacrifice. By this sacrifice we join in the death of Jesus Christ, so we have a sure hope of joining in his Resurrection.
Jesus is the Lamb of God, but this sacrifice was different than the sacrifice of the lambs. Soon after the meal, the disciples saw Jesus give his body and blood for the whole world. The lambs were eaten after they were killed, but Jesus was not constrained by time. Even before the sacrifice, he was able to present his body and blood. The body and blood that he presented to them is clearly the body and blood that he offered the next day; it is clearly the body and blood that rose from the dead on Easter. It is his Body and Blood. This bread and this cup are a participation in the death of Christ, “for as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.”
Jesus is the Lamb of God, but this sacrifice was different than the sacrifice of the lambs. The Israelites ate the body of the lamb, but they did not drink the blood. God had said that the blood of an animal is the life of that animal, so he forbid them from drinking blood. The life of an animal belonged to God, so the blood was poured out on the altar. In this sacrifice, we drink the blood because the life of Christ was poured out for us. The lifeblood of Christ belongs to us, since he has given it to us. Some of the lambs’ blood was used to mark the doorway as a symbol that the angel of death should pass over that house. So now we drink the blood of the Lamb of God so that this blood will mark our souls.
“A person should examine themself, and so eat the bread and drink the cup, for anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on themself.” What we receive is not ordinary food. It is a real symbol, which is to say that it actually is what it symbolizes. It symbolizes the Body of Jesus Christ, so it actually is the Body of Jesus Christ. It symbolizes the Blood of Jesus Christ, so it actually is the Blood of Jesus Christ. By eating and drinking this Body and Blood, we symbolize our participation in the death of Jesus Christ, so we actually participate in his death.
Let no one be deceived and believe that it is your own thoughts or your own faith which makes the bread and wine into the Body and Blood. It is only the words of Jesus: “This is my Body.” “This is the cup of my Blood.”, spoken by one who has the authority to say the words, an authority that comes from the Apostles to whom Jesus said: “Do this in memory of me.” So let us examine ourselves and not eat and drink judgment on ourselves. We must receive the Body and Blood with faith, not because our faith makes it so, but because it is so and we should only receive if we believe.
When you are invited to dinner, consider carefully before you eat because you must provide the same sort of meal yourself in return. When we sit down to this sacrificial meal, we ought to consider carefully what is set before us, since we must provide the same kind of meal ourselves. When we eat the Body of Christ, we become willing to give up our own bodies. When we drink the Blood of Christ, we become willing to shed our own blood. When we eat this body and drink this blood, we proclaim his death until he comes in glory. This is not a verbal proclamation but proclamation of action. Truly, we proclaim his death when we eat the body and drink the blood which he gave up for us through his death, but this should not be the limit of our proclamation; it should be the beginning and the end, the source and the summit.
We are what we eat. If we eat the proclamation of the death of Christ, we must become the proclamation of the death of Christ. At the Last Supper, Jesus washed the feet of his disciples and told them, “I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.” The washing of feet is a symbol. Everything that Jesus did for us, we are called to do for our brothers. Did he serve us? Then we should serve others. Did he love us? Then we should love others. Did he forgive us? Then we should forgive others. Did he die for us? Then we should die for others. Did he give us his body and blood? Then we should give our bodies and our blood for others.
We are what we eat. If we eat the Body of Christ, we become the Body of Christ. Someone here is the hand of Christ. Someone here is the feet of Christ. Someone here is the heart of Christ, beating with love. Together we are the Body of Christ, with Jesus Christ as our head. If we eat this body and drink this blood, anything we do, Christ does, since we are part of the Body of Christ. If we eat this body and drink this blood, we must act in a manner worthy of our call. If we eat this body and then sin, we have brought sin upon the Body of Christ. If we drink this blood and then hate someone, we have brought hatred into the Blood of Christ. No longer is any sin a small sin. No longer is any sin a private failing. If we have chosen to be part of the Body of Christ, we must also choose to be perfect. When we fall short of perfection, we must confess our sins and be forgiven.
Our Lord Jesus Christ borrowed from us humanity and took it to himself. Tonight he gives it back to us. If we participate in his humanity, entirely, we will be saved. His humanity is a life preserver thrown from heaven to us who are drowning. We must cling to it. There is nothing here on earth that can save us; we cannot save ourselves. We are saved not by imitation but by participation. If you try to be like Christ, you will fail. We must participate in his Body, by eating his Body and drinking his Blood. Then we will participate in the life of Christ, a life of service and self-giving. Then we can participate in the death of Christ, a perfect sacrifice. And only then can we participate in the Resurrection of Christ.
March 31, 2012 - Saturday of the Fifth Week of Lent
Today's Readings
It is so sad to see the convoluted logic of the Pharisees. Jesus is healing people. Jesus is converting sinners back to following God. Jesus is raising dead people back to life. The Pharisees are worried how they can put a stop to all of it. It will be very difficult. His life, his words, and his miracles are all very convincing. Of course, the Pharisees could have just been convinced. If they had just believed that Jesus was the Messiah, they would not have had to work so hard to prevent others from believing.
They seem more worried with preventing the Romans from coming and destroying Jerusalem than with whether Jesus was actually the Messiah. Their worries are not unfounded. Forty years later, a false Messiah would start a war with the Romans, and Jerusalem would be destroyed, and the Jews forced to leave. The Pharisees were right about the consequences of a false Messiah, but they seem to have lost real hope in the coming of the actual Messiah.
They had become cynical, whereas a Christian needs to be trusting. They had lost hope, whereas a Christian lives by hope. They loved themselves and their positions and their situation, whereas a Christian must love God above all things and their neighbors as themselves. The words of Caiaphas, “it is better for you that one man should die instead of the people” are said with the lowest intention: to betray an innocent man because his words and actions might not be looked upon favorably by the persecuting Romans. Caiaphas has turned into a collaborator.
However, the words of Caiaphas are also, St. John tells us, a prophecy. Caiaphas was the high priest, and God would use him for God’s own purposes. It is better for us that an innocent man should die in our place. It is better, for us, that Jesus gave up his life to save ours. It is better, not because we should be such cowards that we gladly see someone else die for our sins, but because if we died for our own sins, we would not have risen again, but when Jesus died for the sins of the whole world, the innocent for the guilty, he had the power to lay his life down and take it up again. It is better for us that an innocent man should die instead of the whole world, but only if that innocent man can, by his death, destroy death.
It is so sad to see the convoluted logic of the Pharisees. Jesus is healing people. Jesus is converting sinners back to following God. Jesus is raising dead people back to life. The Pharisees are worried how they can put a stop to all of it. It will be very difficult. His life, his words, and his miracles are all very convincing. Of course, the Pharisees could have just been convinced. If they had just believed that Jesus was the Messiah, they would not have had to work so hard to prevent others from believing.
They seem more worried with preventing the Romans from coming and destroying Jerusalem than with whether Jesus was actually the Messiah. Their worries are not unfounded. Forty years later, a false Messiah would start a war with the Romans, and Jerusalem would be destroyed, and the Jews forced to leave. The Pharisees were right about the consequences of a false Messiah, but they seem to have lost real hope in the coming of the actual Messiah.
They had become cynical, whereas a Christian needs to be trusting. They had lost hope, whereas a Christian lives by hope. They loved themselves and their positions and their situation, whereas a Christian must love God above all things and their neighbors as themselves. The words of Caiaphas, “it is better for you that one man should die instead of the people” are said with the lowest intention: to betray an innocent man because his words and actions might not be looked upon favorably by the persecuting Romans. Caiaphas has turned into a collaborator.
However, the words of Caiaphas are also, St. John tells us, a prophecy. Caiaphas was the high priest, and God would use him for God’s own purposes. It is better for us that an innocent man should die in our place. It is better, for us, that Jesus gave up his life to save ours. It is better, not because we should be such cowards that we gladly see someone else die for our sins, but because if we died for our own sins, we would not have risen again, but when Jesus died for the sins of the whole world, the innocent for the guilty, he had the power to lay his life down and take it up again. It is better for us that an innocent man should die instead of the whole world, but only if that innocent man can, by his death, destroy death.
March 27, 2012 - Tuesday of the Fifth Week of Lent
Today's Readings
Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up. The serpent was a sign of contradiction. The people were being killed by serpents, and they could only be cured by seeing the serpent. So too Christ is a sign of contradiction. He took away death by dying. He took away sin by suffering the greatest sin ever committed.
If anyone was bitten by a serpent, they looked at the bronze serpent on a pole and they were saved, but the bronze serpent was only a symbol. Even if the people were saved from the bite, they died eventually. Jesus Christ is the reality which was symbolized. When we look upon Jesus, and we believe in him, we are saved forever.
This difference is important. The symbol worked partially, and it worked simply by looking. The reality works fully, but merely looking is not enough. We must believe also. What do we have to believe? Jesus says, “If you do not believe that I AM, you will die in your sins.” The Pharisees want him to finish the sentence. They ask, “Who are you?” Jesus repeats the phrase again, “I AM.”
This is how God refers to himself. When Moses asked God for his name, God said, “I am who am.” God was saying that he does not participate in the universe. He is the foundation of the universe. He is the one essential fact. Everything else could have not existed, but God just IS. He was never created. There never was when he was not. There were a lot of things when I was not. The world got along just fine (at least, as fine as it ever has) before I came along. Back then, I did not exist, but many people did.
Jesus is telling the Pharisees that he has always existed and will always exist. When this Earth did not exist, he did. When this Earth stops existing, he will continue existing. This is what we must believe when we look at the Cross. We see, with our eyes, a man, totally defeated, a dead man, but we believe in our hearts that that man could never be defeated. We believe that he will win every battle. If we see him dead, we can know for certain that he has just gone to fight death, and he will emerge victorious.
Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up. The serpent was a sign of contradiction. The people were being killed by serpents, and they could only be cured by seeing the serpent. So too Christ is a sign of contradiction. He took away death by dying. He took away sin by suffering the greatest sin ever committed.
If anyone was bitten by a serpent, they looked at the bronze serpent on a pole and they were saved, but the bronze serpent was only a symbol. Even if the people were saved from the bite, they died eventually. Jesus Christ is the reality which was symbolized. When we look upon Jesus, and we believe in him, we are saved forever.
This difference is important. The symbol worked partially, and it worked simply by looking. The reality works fully, but merely looking is not enough. We must believe also. What do we have to believe? Jesus says, “If you do not believe that I AM, you will die in your sins.” The Pharisees want him to finish the sentence. They ask, “Who are you?” Jesus repeats the phrase again, “I AM.”
This is how God refers to himself. When Moses asked God for his name, God said, “I am who am.” God was saying that he does not participate in the universe. He is the foundation of the universe. He is the one essential fact. Everything else could have not existed, but God just IS. He was never created. There never was when he was not. There were a lot of things when I was not. The world got along just fine (at least, as fine as it ever has) before I came along. Back then, I did not exist, but many people did.
Jesus is telling the Pharisees that he has always existed and will always exist. When this Earth did not exist, he did. When this Earth stops existing, he will continue existing. This is what we must believe when we look at the Cross. We see, with our eyes, a man, totally defeated, a dead man, but we believe in our hearts that that man could never be defeated. We believe that he will win every battle. If we see him dead, we can know for certain that he has just gone to fight death, and he will emerge victorious.
March 25, 2012 - Fifth Sunday of Lent with Scrutinies
Today's Readings
Today is the day of the third scrutiny of the elect. When the catechumens hear that there are going to be three scrutinies, sometimes they are concerned. “How exactly are we going to be scrutinized?”, they wonder.
The first thing that should be said comes from St. Paul: for who knows what pertains to the human except the spirit inside of them? These scrutinies are not of something external. We are not going to scrutinize your hairstyle or the way you dress or any of those things that matter to the world. We are not even going to attempt to scrutinize your soul because we cannot see it. The only person who can scrutinize you is you. The point of these scrutinies is for you to scrutinize yourself. You are hoping to be baptized in a couple weeks, so scrutinize yourselves and see whether there is anything else you should leave behind as you approach the baptismal font.
The scrutinies are for you the elect, but they are also for all of us who have been baptized. For the candidates for Confirmation and for all of us here. As the scrutinies are read, we should scrutinize ourselves. If we are perfectly happy with everything we see, we should probably look more closely. When we find something that is not good, we should turn it over to God. We have such a normal desire to turn a blind eye to our faults. We must scrutinize ourselves.
God wants to save us, and he does not want to do it halfway. He wants us to be perfect. How perfect? Perfect like he is perfect. This is impossible for us to accomplish, but it is not an impossible goal. We must not ever be satisfied with less.
We just sang today: “With the Lord there is mercy, and fullness of redemption.” Not some half-baked redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some watered down redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some just good enough, best that could be done, what more could you possibly expect redemption. The fullness of redemption. With the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption. Mercy for when we sin; the fullness of redemption so that we may sin no more.
If anyone is afraid that there is something in their life that is beyond the power of God, be not afraid! Jesus Christ rose from the dead, and he will raise our mortal bodies also. “Then you will know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and have you rise from them.” If God can raise the dead, what else can he do? This is the point of the Gospel today. If he can resurrect a man, dead and in the grave for four days, what could possibly be beyond his capability?
Jesus tells Martha, “Your brother will rise.” It sounds like the sort of thing people say at funerals all the time. When we see someone who is mourning, we do not know what to say. We are helpless to help, so we have certain catchphrases: “I’m sorry for your loss.” “He was a good man” “Well, he is in heaven now.” Martha seems to think that Jesus is just saying something polite, so she accepts his condolences: “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus reminds her, “I am the resurrection and the life.”
Here Jesus is saying one of those things that proves he was not just a nice teacher. “I am the resurrection and the life” is not something someone slips casually into conversation. Who but the almighty God could say that? And if the person who said that also died for us on the Cross, he will give us everything we need besides. He will give us mercy, and he will give us the fullness of redemption.
Today is the day of the third scrutiny of the elect. When the catechumens hear that there are going to be three scrutinies, sometimes they are concerned. “How exactly are we going to be scrutinized?”, they wonder.
The first thing that should be said comes from St. Paul: for who knows what pertains to the human except the spirit inside of them? These scrutinies are not of something external. We are not going to scrutinize your hairstyle or the way you dress or any of those things that matter to the world. We are not even going to attempt to scrutinize your soul because we cannot see it. The only person who can scrutinize you is you. The point of these scrutinies is for you to scrutinize yourself. You are hoping to be baptized in a couple weeks, so scrutinize yourselves and see whether there is anything else you should leave behind as you approach the baptismal font.
The scrutinies are for you the elect, but they are also for all of us who have been baptized. For the candidates for Confirmation and for all of us here. As the scrutinies are read, we should scrutinize ourselves. If we are perfectly happy with everything we see, we should probably look more closely. When we find something that is not good, we should turn it over to God. We have such a normal desire to turn a blind eye to our faults. We must scrutinize ourselves.
God wants to save us, and he does not want to do it halfway. He wants us to be perfect. How perfect? Perfect like he is perfect. This is impossible for us to accomplish, but it is not an impossible goal. We must not ever be satisfied with less.
We just sang today: “With the Lord there is mercy, and fullness of redemption.” Not some half-baked redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some watered down redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some just good enough, best that could be done, what more could you possibly expect redemption. The fullness of redemption. With the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption. Mercy for when we sin; the fullness of redemption so that we may sin no more.
If anyone is afraid that there is something in their life that is beyond the power of God, be not afraid! Jesus Christ rose from the dead, and he will raise our mortal bodies also. “Then you will know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and have you rise from them.” If God can raise the dead, what else can he do? This is the point of the Gospel today. If he can resurrect a man, dead and in the grave for four days, what could possibly be beyond his capability?
Jesus tells Martha, “Your brother will rise.” It sounds like the sort of thing people say at funerals all the time. When we see someone who is mourning, we do not know what to say. We are helpless to help, so we have certain catchphrases: “I’m sorry for your loss.” “He was a good man” “Well, he is in heaven now.” Martha seems to think that Jesus is just saying something polite, so she accepts his condolences: “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus reminds her, “I am the resurrection and the life.”
Here Jesus is saying one of those things that proves he was not just a nice teacher. “I am the resurrection and the life” is not something someone slips casually into conversation. Who but the almighty God could say that? And if the person who said that also died for us on the Cross, he will give us everything we need besides. He will give us mercy, and he will give us the fullness of redemption.
March 7, 2012 - Wednesday of the Second Week of Lent
Today's Readings
Jesus always knew what was going on. He was not caught up in events beyond his control. Even before he went to Jerusalem, he not only prophesied his death and resurrection, but even described how it would all take place. When we hear the story of his passion in a few weeks, we must keep today’s Gospel in mind. Jesus did what he did on purpose. Nothing could have been done to him if he had not allowed it to happen. There is nothing he suffered that he did not choose to suffer. This does not take away the guilt of those who betrayed him and condemned him and scourged him and mocked him and crucified him; they also chose to do what they were doing. Jesus, however, must be seen throughout all this as one who came “to give his life”, not someone who had it taken from him.
What does it mean for Jesus “to give his life as a ransom for many”? A ransom is the price paid to a captor for the freedom of the captives. Who is our captor? Satan. Sin. Death. We sold ourselves into captivity for a fruit. We were meant to be free. We were supposed to be kings and queens of this earth. Instead, we have spent the majority of human history in captivity. Satan demanded the life of an innocent man for ransom, and Jesus paid it with his own life. Only he could pay it, because he was the only innocent man. His life could not be taken from him, but he could lay it down. What Satan did not know was that, having laid it down, he could take it up again.
The ransom has been paid, so Satan is forced to release us, if we will be free. Jesus unlocked the door of the dungeon that is sin, but we have to choose to walk out. This should not be difficult, the choice to leave sin behind, but we are enamored with the little comforts that we have found in this filthy prison cell. We must somehow work up the courage to leave! How foolish we look, choosing to stay in the dark, dirty prison, rather than go out into the light. We hear voices, whispering, enticing us to stay. We are frightened of what “going out” means. So we stay, in sin, ransomed prisoners who will not leave.
Jesus always knew what was going on. He was not caught up in events beyond his control. Even before he went to Jerusalem, he not only prophesied his death and resurrection, but even described how it would all take place. When we hear the story of his passion in a few weeks, we must keep today’s Gospel in mind. Jesus did what he did on purpose. Nothing could have been done to him if he had not allowed it to happen. There is nothing he suffered that he did not choose to suffer. This does not take away the guilt of those who betrayed him and condemned him and scourged him and mocked him and crucified him; they also chose to do what they were doing. Jesus, however, must be seen throughout all this as one who came “to give his life”, not someone who had it taken from him.
What does it mean for Jesus “to give his life as a ransom for many”? A ransom is the price paid to a captor for the freedom of the captives. Who is our captor? Satan. Sin. Death. We sold ourselves into captivity for a fruit. We were meant to be free. We were supposed to be kings and queens of this earth. Instead, we have spent the majority of human history in captivity. Satan demanded the life of an innocent man for ransom, and Jesus paid it with his own life. Only he could pay it, because he was the only innocent man. His life could not be taken from him, but he could lay it down. What Satan did not know was that, having laid it down, he could take it up again.
The ransom has been paid, so Satan is forced to release us, if we will be free. Jesus unlocked the door of the dungeon that is sin, but we have to choose to walk out. This should not be difficult, the choice to leave sin behind, but we are enamored with the little comforts that we have found in this filthy prison cell. We must somehow work up the courage to leave! How foolish we look, choosing to stay in the dark, dirty prison, rather than go out into the light. We hear voices, whispering, enticing us to stay. We are frightened of what “going out” means. So we stay, in sin, ransomed prisoners who will not leave.
October 13, 2011 - Thursday of the Twenty-Eighth Week in Ordinary Time
Today's Readings
“With the Lord there is mercy, and fullness of redemption.” Not some half-baked redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some watered down redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some just good enough, best that could be done, what more could you expect redemption. The fullness of redemption. With the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption. Mercy for when we sin; the fullness of redemption so that we may sin no longer.
The fullness of redemption includes justification. God is going to justify us. To be justified is to be made good, to be made just. I am not just, and you are not just. We commit an injustice with every sin. We need to be justified. Martin Luther, when he started the Lutherans, infected Christianity with a false idea of justification. He said that God only learns to ignore our sins. He told his followers to “sin boldly but believe more boldly still.” Because of this, the word “justified” in English has come to mean something like: to have a good excuse, which is so different from what St. Paul meant.
We do not want to have a good excuse for sinning; we want to stop sinning. We want to be justified: not justified in sinning but justified away from sin. We believe that with the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption. It is all well and good to believe, but faith that accomplishes nothing is dead. A person is justified by faith and not the works of the law. How are we justified by faith? Faith in God is more than just an acknowledgement of his existence. Faith is trusting that the promises of God will come true. God promises to fix what is broken in our souls. If we believe that we are broken and we believe that God can fix us, then he can get to work.
Justification is a process; it does not happen all at once, in a moment; it is not as if we can say a little prayer confessing our faith and suddenly be fully redeemed, but when we believe that with the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption, everything changes. As things stand without God, people must either hate themselves or learn to love sin. This is the dilemma of the world. For us Christians, the situation is different, we can hate sin but love the person we can become by God’s grace, the person we will become if we let God fully redeem us.
“With the Lord there is mercy, and fullness of redemption.” Not some half-baked redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some watered down redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some just good enough, best that could be done, what more could you expect redemption. The fullness of redemption. With the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption. Mercy for when we sin; the fullness of redemption so that we may sin no longer.
The fullness of redemption includes justification. God is going to justify us. To be justified is to be made good, to be made just. I am not just, and you are not just. We commit an injustice with every sin. We need to be justified. Martin Luther, when he started the Lutherans, infected Christianity with a false idea of justification. He said that God only learns to ignore our sins. He told his followers to “sin boldly but believe more boldly still.” Because of this, the word “justified” in English has come to mean something like: to have a good excuse, which is so different from what St. Paul meant.
We do not want to have a good excuse for sinning; we want to stop sinning. We want to be justified: not justified in sinning but justified away from sin. We believe that with the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption. It is all well and good to believe, but faith that accomplishes nothing is dead. A person is justified by faith and not the works of the law. How are we justified by faith? Faith in God is more than just an acknowledgement of his existence. Faith is trusting that the promises of God will come true. God promises to fix what is broken in our souls. If we believe that we are broken and we believe that God can fix us, then he can get to work.
Justification is a process; it does not happen all at once, in a moment; it is not as if we can say a little prayer confessing our faith and suddenly be fully redeemed, but when we believe that with the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption, everything changes. As things stand without God, people must either hate themselves or learn to love sin. This is the dilemma of the world. For us Christians, the situation is different, we can hate sin but love the person we can become by God’s grace, the person we will become if we let God fully redeem us.
October 9, 2011 - Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today's Readings
The king is holding a feast. His servants go out into the streets and gather guests into the feast. They gathered in the good and the bad, but anyone without a wedding garment is thrown out. The feast is the Church. We are the servants. The streets are the world. It is our job to go out into the world and bring in everyone we can find. We should bring them into the Church, bad and good alike. The Church does not only want to bring in the good. We are the least exclusive organization in the world. Anyone can join, and we insist that everyone ought to.
Why did the man not have a wedding garment? Scholars will explain various possibilities: perhaps he is poor, perhaps he refused the garment when someone offered it to him, perhaps he had crashed the party through the back door. We do not even need to consider the historical data. It is not important whether kings in those days had wedding garments available for all the guests. Everything we need to know is right there in the text. The king asks the man how he got in without a wedding garment. The king asks the very question that we are discussing, but the man is silent. He has no excuse for himself, so we should not try to provide him one. He should have had the garment on.
What is the garment? In the tradition of the Church, one thing has been consistently identified as a garment: baptism. So the man has appeared at the feast, which is to say at Mass, without baptism. It upsets some people that the Church is adamant that you have to be Catholic to receive the Eucharist. There are a few limited exceptions, but a person certainly has to be baptized to receive the Eucharist. This rule upsets some people because we are not being welcoming.
That is a lie. We are absolutely being welcoming. We are welcoming anyone and everyone to join the Church and be baptized. What is not an option is to be half in the Church and half out of it. A person must either join or not join. If they are coming into the feast, they have to put on the wedding garment first. It is not okay to just be cool and hang out at the feast.
The white alb that the priests and deacons and servers all wear is a symbol of our baptismal garment. The chasuble is a symbol of God’s love, the dalmatic is a symbol of service, the stole is a symbol of authority that comes with ordination, the cincture is a symbol of being unmarried, and the alb is a symbol of baptism.
It would be impractical, I suppose, but the ideal would be if all of the baptized, every one of you, wore albs to Mass, some with cinctures, some without. It would be impractical, although it would also resolve the issue of appropriate clothing in the church. It would be great if we all did wear albs to Mass. Really symbolic, a whole different feeling, but it is just impossible practically speaking; just imagine the laundry every week!
Speaking of laundry, it occurs to me that 2000 years ago, work clothes were just old, worn out dress clothes. Even in old photographs, the men are always working in dress shirts. When your Sunday clothes wore out, they became your weekday clothes. So everyone got this perfect white garment. They took off the filthy clothes they had been wearing and put on the immaculate wedding garment. Perhaps this man was wearing a wedding garment which had just gotten so filthy since he put it on that it looked like work clothes.
While we cannot see the condition of each others’ baptismal garments, and this is probably a good thing, we can look at our own. Look at yours. You can see the stains and holes and tears and loose threads. I am talking about sins. We would not walk out of the house with tomato sauce down the front of our shirts, but we walk around in these baptismal garments that stink with sin.
See if you can crane your necks just right and read the figurative label on your metaphorical albs. It contains the instructions for proper care and laundering. You cannot wash the garment yourself. You can clean off the crumbs with a little repentance, and the little stains come off with a little holy water, but according to the label, serious stains have to be professionally laundered. The laundry is done right over there, every Saturday from 4:30 to 5:30. Just come on in, point out the stains (do not try to hide any), and they will all be cleaned right up. These stains cannot be removed with soap and water. They can only be cleaned with the blood of the Lamb, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.
This is his feast. It says in the Gospel that the king gave a wedding feast for his son. The son of the king is the Lamb of God. He provides the garments in baptism. He cleans them with his blood in confession. Then he feeds us with his body and blood in this feast. Usually the guests bring the gifts for the bride and groom, but Jesus gives us the gifts. Do you know why? Do you know who the bride is? The bride is the Church. We are all the guests at the feast, but this feast was put on for us. Individually we are the guests, but gathered together, we are the Church, so we are also the bride.
The lesson that Jesus draws from this parable is that “many are invited but few are chosen.” These words, “many” and “few” have special meaning when Jesus uses them. In a few weeks we will begin using the new translation of the Mass and one difference you may notice is that the phrase “for many” will appear in consecration where the priest has been saying “for all”. This is not because “many” is less than “all”. It is not. Some people mix-up “many” with “most”. “Many” does mean all, but it means more than “all”. It invites us to imagine the 100 billion humans who have walked this earth and the 7 billion who are currently here. It is not just us. There are many people, and God died for all of them.
“Few” does not necessarily mean a small number. Imagine if the only people in heaven were the canonized Saints. There are tens of thousands. “Few” is to be taken relatively speaking. Tens of thousands are few where a hundred billion are concerned; tens of millions would be few. “Few” also has a lot to do with value. If a parent heard that three of their four children survived a car accident, they would rightly call that “too few”. God loves us like that. He calls many because he calls everyone. If even one child of God does not choose to be chosen, only a few are chosen.
You are part of the many. God is calling you. You can be part of the few. God will choose you if you allow him to.
The king is holding a feast. His servants go out into the streets and gather guests into the feast. They gathered in the good and the bad, but anyone without a wedding garment is thrown out. The feast is the Church. We are the servants. The streets are the world. It is our job to go out into the world and bring in everyone we can find. We should bring them into the Church, bad and good alike. The Church does not only want to bring in the good. We are the least exclusive organization in the world. Anyone can join, and we insist that everyone ought to.
Why did the man not have a wedding garment? Scholars will explain various possibilities: perhaps he is poor, perhaps he refused the garment when someone offered it to him, perhaps he had crashed the party through the back door. We do not even need to consider the historical data. It is not important whether kings in those days had wedding garments available for all the guests. Everything we need to know is right there in the text. The king asks the man how he got in without a wedding garment. The king asks the very question that we are discussing, but the man is silent. He has no excuse for himself, so we should not try to provide him one. He should have had the garment on.
What is the garment? In the tradition of the Church, one thing has been consistently identified as a garment: baptism. So the man has appeared at the feast, which is to say at Mass, without baptism. It upsets some people that the Church is adamant that you have to be Catholic to receive the Eucharist. There are a few limited exceptions, but a person certainly has to be baptized to receive the Eucharist. This rule upsets some people because we are not being welcoming.
That is a lie. We are absolutely being welcoming. We are welcoming anyone and everyone to join the Church and be baptized. What is not an option is to be half in the Church and half out of it. A person must either join or not join. If they are coming into the feast, they have to put on the wedding garment first. It is not okay to just be cool and hang out at the feast.
The white alb that the priests and deacons and servers all wear is a symbol of our baptismal garment. The chasuble is a symbol of God’s love, the dalmatic is a symbol of service, the stole is a symbol of authority that comes with ordination, the cincture is a symbol of being unmarried, and the alb is a symbol of baptism.
It would be impractical, I suppose, but the ideal would be if all of the baptized, every one of you, wore albs to Mass, some with cinctures, some without. It would be impractical, although it would also resolve the issue of appropriate clothing in the church. It would be great if we all did wear albs to Mass. Really symbolic, a whole different feeling, but it is just impossible practically speaking; just imagine the laundry every week!
Speaking of laundry, it occurs to me that 2000 years ago, work clothes were just old, worn out dress clothes. Even in old photographs, the men are always working in dress shirts. When your Sunday clothes wore out, they became your weekday clothes. So everyone got this perfect white garment. They took off the filthy clothes they had been wearing and put on the immaculate wedding garment. Perhaps this man was wearing a wedding garment which had just gotten so filthy since he put it on that it looked like work clothes.
While we cannot see the condition of each others’ baptismal garments, and this is probably a good thing, we can look at our own. Look at yours. You can see the stains and holes and tears and loose threads. I am talking about sins. We would not walk out of the house with tomato sauce down the front of our shirts, but we walk around in these baptismal garments that stink with sin.
See if you can crane your necks just right and read the figurative label on your metaphorical albs. It contains the instructions for proper care and laundering. You cannot wash the garment yourself. You can clean off the crumbs with a little repentance, and the little stains come off with a little holy water, but according to the label, serious stains have to be professionally laundered. The laundry is done right over there, every Saturday from 4:30 to 5:30. Just come on in, point out the stains (do not try to hide any), and they will all be cleaned right up. These stains cannot be removed with soap and water. They can only be cleaned with the blood of the Lamb, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.
This is his feast. It says in the Gospel that the king gave a wedding feast for his son. The son of the king is the Lamb of God. He provides the garments in baptism. He cleans them with his blood in confession. Then he feeds us with his body and blood in this feast. Usually the guests bring the gifts for the bride and groom, but Jesus gives us the gifts. Do you know why? Do you know who the bride is? The bride is the Church. We are all the guests at the feast, but this feast was put on for us. Individually we are the guests, but gathered together, we are the Church, so we are also the bride.
The lesson that Jesus draws from this parable is that “many are invited but few are chosen.” These words, “many” and “few” have special meaning when Jesus uses them. In a few weeks we will begin using the new translation of the Mass and one difference you may notice is that the phrase “for many” will appear in consecration where the priest has been saying “for all”. This is not because “many” is less than “all”. It is not. Some people mix-up “many” with “most”. “Many” does mean all, but it means more than “all”. It invites us to imagine the 100 billion humans who have walked this earth and the 7 billion who are currently here. It is not just us. There are many people, and God died for all of them.
“Few” does not necessarily mean a small number. Imagine if the only people in heaven were the canonized Saints. There are tens of thousands. “Few” is to be taken relatively speaking. Tens of thousands are few where a hundred billion are concerned; tens of millions would be few. “Few” also has a lot to do with value. If a parent heard that three of their four children survived a car accident, they would rightly call that “too few”. God loves us like that. He calls many because he calls everyone. If even one child of God does not choose to be chosen, only a few are chosen.
You are part of the many. God is calling you. You can be part of the few. God will choose you if you allow him to.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)