Mem. of the Dedication of the Basilicas of St Peter & St Paul

Readings: Acts 28:11-16.30.31; Psalm 98:1-6; Matthew 14:22-33

The word “apostolic” has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? For Christians, all of whom use it in reference to the Church when saying the Creed, it is a crucial word. While being apostolic can’t be reduced to apostolic succession, apostolic succession isn’t just vital, it is necessary for the Church, if she to be the Church of Christ, if she is to be genuinely apostolic.

It bears noting that there is no higher sacramental office in the Church of Christ than bishop. As successors of the apostles, each bishop, particularly those who are ordinaries, that is, those who head dioceses, which are local churches, each bishop enjoys the fullness of the sacrament of orders. Episcopal ministry has a threefold munera: to teach, to govern, and to sanctify.

Priests and deacons receive their authority to minister from their bishop or, if not a member of the clergy of a diocese, then from the bishop in whose jurisdiction they serve. For those of us who are diocesan clergy, it is no exaggeration to say that our ministries are but extensions of the bishop’s apostolic ministry.

As our reading from the Acts of the Apostles, which tells of Paul’s arrival in Rome as a prisoner, apostolic succession centers in Rome, the imperial capital of ancient world. The pope holds his office by virtue of being the Bishop of Rome. Rome being the “See” of the Apostles Peter & Paul. Because all the sees subject to Rome are suburbican (i.e., they are Roman suburbs), Rome is designated a diocese and not an archdiocese.

Saint Peter's Basilica

Today, the Church celebrates the dedication of two Roman Basilicas: Saint Peter’s in the Vatican and Saint Paul Outside the Walls. Believe it or not, Saint Peter’s in not the Mother Church of Christendom because it is not the Bishop of Rome’s cathedral. Saint John Lateran, the dedication of which the Church celebrates each year on 9 November, is the Cathedral of the Bishop of Rome, where his cathedra, or chair, can be found. Unlike today’s observance, which is an optional memorial, the Church’s celebration of the Dedication of Saint John Lateran is a universal feast.

Both the Basilicas of Saint Peter & Saint Paul are built over the tombs of their namesake. Saint Peter was crucified in Rome during the persecution of the Emperor Nero in AD 64. Saint Paul, being a Roman citizen, was beheaded in Rome sometime between AD 62-67. If you remember, Paul used his prerogative as a Roman citizen to appeal his case to the emperor. Fully believing he would be exonerated, Paul, as his Letter to the Romans indicates, was planning to evangelize westward from Rome.

As the Church father Tertullian observed: the blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church. Rome is proof of this. While the pope is the successor of Peter, who is revered as the first Bishop of Rome, the papacy has a missionary aspect, which is its Pauline. dimension. It wasn’t really until modern times, until the papacy of the aptly named Pope Paul VI, that popes really began to travel around the world. This is an important part of the papal office, which is why popes go to such great lengths to do it.

Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls

Whether we’re talking about Peter or Paul we’re talking about evangelization, about spreading the Gospel, the Good News that is Jesus Christ. More than a program, evangelization is about telling others what Jesus has done for you, what difference knowing Jesus makes in your life. To mistake apologetics for evangelization is to risk addressing questions no one is asking, or to reduce an encounter to a formula.

As he was sinking in waters of the Sea of Galilee, Peter called out “Lord, save me” and “Immediately,” without hesitation, the Lord “stretched out his hand and caught him.”¹

In his Letter to the Romans, it was Paul the prisoner who wrote:

What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword?²

This brings us to the other dimension of what it means for the Church to be apostolic. An apostle is one who is sent. In a Christian context, it is one who is sent to testify about Jesus Christ. You can’t testify to an experience you have never had.

Of course, both Peter and Paul had direct encounters with the Risen Lord. Their apostolic ministries, therefore, are about proclaiming that Jesus is Lord. At the end of Mass, this is what you are sent to do.

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1 Matthew 14:30-31.^↩
2 Romans 8:35.^↩

Year B Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Daniel 12:1-3; Psalm 16:5.8-11; Hebrews 10:11-14.18; Mark 13:24-32

Today is the penultimate Sunday of this liturgical year. I admit, I’ve been looking forward to using the word “penultimate,” all week. Along with “juxtapose,” it is a word I love finding occasions to use.

The Book of Daniel, from which our first reading is taken, is an apocalyptic book. As such, it is fitting to read from it as the Church year ends. At the end of each year, the Church looks forward to the end of time, not to the end of the world, but to the end of the world as we know it. This reading looks forward to the resurrection of the dead.

Our reading from Daniel makes mention of Michael. Calling him “the great prince and guardian of [God’s] people.”¹ This is a reference to none other than Saint Michael the archangel. We do not speak about angels very much. I suspect this is due, at least in part, to how angels are often depicted: as chubby toddlers. Hence, it seems childish, superstitious, or perhaps even downright silly to some.

Nonetheless, “the whole life of the Church benefits from the mysterious and powerful help of angels.”² For example, the Sanctus, an ordinary part of the Mass, which is sung or recited at every Mass, begins Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus… (i.e., Holy, holy, holy), is the song of angels. By singing or reciting the Sanctus, we join the choirs of angels in praising God.

We profess in both the Nicene and Apostles Creeds our belief that Jesus Christ will return in glory to judge the living and dead. Like angels, we do not pay much attention to this dogmatic belief. As Christians, we need to live our lives in joyful expectation of that day when God will make good on all His promises, which is the source of all true hope.

In our Gospel, Jesus teaches his closest disciples about His return. He, too, mentions angels, saying He will send them forth to “gather his elect from the four winds, from the end of the earth to the end of the sky.”³ In light of this aspect of divine revelation, we need to mightily resist the stripping away of the great mystery of creation and redemption and the reduction of Christianity to a this-worldly, utopian project that simply bids one to “Be nice.”

As C.S. Lewis observed:

But we must not suppose that even if we succeeded in making everyone nice we should have saved their souls. A world of nice people, content in their own niceness, looking no further, turned away from God, would be just as desperately in need of salvation as a miserable world-and might even be more difficult to save⁴

I could go into the distinctions between being nice and being kind and between being kind and being charitable. Don’t get me wrong, being nice, at least when used as a synonym for being kind, matters. As Maj. Frank Burns quipped: “It’s nice to be nice to the nice.” But being nice, even in this way, isn’t everything. I think I could lack faith and still manage to be nice.

No one knows when the Lord will return. According to Jesus, not only do the angels not know the day or hour of His return, but even He, at least during his earthly sojourn, did not know. This is why, as that great Christian spiritual master, Metropolitan Anthony Bloom, insisted that for Christians, every day is judgement day.

“Epiphany” is a word frequently used in the New Testament to refer to the Lord’s return. An epiphany is a sudden occurrence, realization, or revelation. If today’s Gospel is to be believed, Christ’s sudden appearance will happen after a time of great tribulation. Remember All Saints when we read from the book of Revelation? Specifically, to when the elder tells the revelator that those wearing white robes and holding palm branches who surrounded the Lamb and praised Him are those “who have survived the time of great distress; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”⁵

There is a reason in the Salve Regina that we refer to this life as hac lacrimarum valle- this valley of tears and to ourselves as exsules filii Hevæ, - Eve’s “poor, banished children.” Like all who have come before us, we live in a time of great distress.

Our reading from Hebrews mentions those who are being consecrated. Note that this is in the present active tense. So, it does not refer to those who have been consecrated. It is about those who are, even now, being consecrated. Primarily, to be consecrated means to be set apart for a purpose. Theologically, the purpose for which one is set apart is God’s purpose. And God’s purpose is the redemption of the world through Jesus Christ.

In the Rite of Baptism, just prior to making a credal profession of faith, several questions are posed to the person being baptized or, in the case of an infant, to her/his parents and godparents:

Do you renounce sin, as to live in the freedom of the children of God?
Do you renounce the lure of evil, so that sin may have no mastery over you?
Do you renounce Satan, the author and prince of sin?⁶

These are not rhetorical questions. Furthermore, they presume belief in “all things… invisible” mentioned in the first part of the Nicene Creed. The spiritual or unseen part of creation is real, not fantastic, let alone imaginary. Hence, the sacraments are not antiquated exercises in medieval magic designed to make us feel good in some non-specific way.

A few weeks ago, we celebrated the Rite of Acceptance whereby several adults entered the Church’s Order of Catechumens. At the beginning of the rite, Fr. Andrzej asked those desirous of becoming Catechumens what they asked of God’s Church. They responded by saying “Faith.” He then asked them what faith offers them. They answered by saying “Eternal life.”⁷ Even as Catholics, we profess that we are saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. But as we are taught by scripture: “faith without works is dead.”⁸

Even after being baptized, we need help. God, in His infinite goodness, in His lovingkindness, gives us help of every kind. For example, as Saint Basil the Great explained: “Beside each believer stands an angel as protector and shepherd leading him to life.”⁹ Yes, you have a Guardian Angel!

Don’t hesitate to call upon your Guardian Angel. Saint Therese of Lisieux, a Doctor of the Church, gave us this lovely prayer:

My holy Guardian Angel, cover me with your wing. With your fire light the road that I’m taking. Come, direct my steps… help me, I call upon you. Just for today

Let’s not forget the Prayer to Saint Michael, which used to be prayed at the end of every Mass:

Saint Michael the archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray;
and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host,
by the power of God,
cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits
who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls

My dear friends in Christ, the only way to survive the time of great distress is to recognize, something C.S. Lewis noted: “Relying on God has to begin all over again every day as if nothing had yet been done.”¹⁰ And so, make use of all the means of grace our loving Father has placed at your disposal. As we prayed in our Collect today, “it is full and lasting happiness to serve with constancy the author of all that is good.”¹¹

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1 Daniel 12:1.^↩
2 Catechism of the Catholic Church, sec. 334.^↩
3 Mark 13:27.^↩
4 C.S. Lewis. Mere Christianity, Book IV, Chapter 10, “Nice People Or New Men?”^↩
5 Revelation 7:14.^↩
6 Order of Christian Initiation of Adults, sec. 224A: Order of Baptism of Children, For Several Children, sec. 57.^↩
7 Order of Christian Initiation of Adults, sec. 50B.^↩
8 James 2:17.^↩
9 Catechism of the Catholic Church, sec. 336.^↩
10 C.S. Lewis Letters to an American Lady, "A Letter to Mrs. L."^↩
11 Roman Missal, “On Sundays and Weekdays,” Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time.^↩

Memorial of Saint Martin of Tours

Readings: Isaiah 61:1-3; Psalm 89:2-5.21-22.25.27; Matthew 25:31-40

The cultus of Saint Martin of Tours was large, on par with that of the deacon, Saint Francis of Assisi. It remained so for more than a millennium. It only began to diminish in the last century. Born a pagan, Martin, followed in his father’s footsteps and entered military service for the Roman Empire. He was born around the time of the Council of Nicaea, the first ecumenical council, which was convened in AD 325. He became a champion of orthodoxy, vigorously opposing Arianism, which denied Jesus’ full divinity.

Against his parents’ wishes, Martin began to attend church at about the age of 10. In the following years, he became a catechumen. He remained a catechumen for years, entering Roman military service aged 15.

The most famous story about Saint Martin occurred while he was on active military service and still a catechumen. Riding on horseback, he encountered a freezing beggar. Martin cut his long military cloak in half and gave it to the beggar. It is reported that he dreamt that night of seeing Jesus wearing the cloak he gave away. In the dream, while wearing the cloak, Martin heard the Lord say to an angel: “Martin, who is still but a catechumen, clothed me with this robe.”

His encounter with the beggar seems to have been the catalyst for Martin to finally be baptized. While there is no chronology, the main chronicler of his life noted that he remained in military service for two years after being baptized.

Como nota breve: no me fío de los restaurantes mexicanos que no tienen una imagen de San Martín de Tours, al que llaman San Martín caballero, en la área de recepción.

After his baptism, on the eve of a battle, Martin refused to fight, insisting that he was now a “soldier of Christ.” Imprisoned for cowardice, Martin offered to go to the battle lines unarmed. The authorities were inclined to have him do this, but the battle never happened. Shortly afterwards, he left military service.

After leaving military service, Martin became a monk. Prior to being made a bishop, he established several monasteries. Saint Benedict, usually held to be the father of Western monasticism, who lived in the late fifth and early sixth centuries not only greatly admired but was inspired by Saint of Martin of Tours.

Bas relief of Saint Martin of Tours as a British WWI soldire for Westminister Cathedral, London, by Eric Gill, carved 1914-1918

For his time, Martin was a unique saint. As a friend of mine, Father John Montag, a Jesuit, noted several years ago: “St Martin was a hugely significant figure--he sort of redefined sainthood. Before he came along, you pretty much had to be a martyr to be considered a saint.” Father Montag went on to note: “I hope all the soldiers we remember today are inspired by Martin and his humble generosity. We could all use a bit of that!”

Saint Martin of Tours is the Patron Saint of beggars, reformed alcoholics, soldiers, tailors, and, oddly enough, in that lovely Catholic manner, also of winegrowers. Martin Luther, born on 10 November, was named “Martin” in honor of Martin of Tours.

Many Eastern Catholic Churches along with Orthodox Churches observe what is called Saint Philip’s Fast. Also called the Nativity Fast, it is similar to Lent, a penitential season during which one prepares to celebrate the Lord’s Nativity. Traditionally, in certain places in the Western Church, the Feast of Saint Martin ushered in what was called “Martinmas.”

Like Saint Philip’s Fast, Martinmas was a penitential time to prepare for the celebration of Christmas. The post-Mass activities tonight are the kinds of things that belonged to the celebration that preceded the beginning of Martinmas, kind of like a Mardi Gras.

My parents gave me Stephen as my middle name. So, Saint Stephen, who is held by the Church to be one of the first seven deacons from Acts 6, is my patron saint. But, being born on 11 November, I claim the holy bishop Saint Martin of Tours as my co-patron. Given the special connection between a bishop and his deacons, it is a divine arrangement that makes sense to me.

As I urged in a homily a few Sundays ago, make friends with some saints. Ask for their prayers, their intercession, and study their lives. As Fr. Tonino Lasconi, an Italian parish priest and author of several volumes on the renewal of catechesis, observed, “Without the saints, the faith vanishes.” Any form of Christianity that does not venerate the saints is impoverished.

It is no accident that it was on 11/11/1911 at 11:00 AM that the ceasefire that ended World War I occurred. All parties, at least all the European nations, engaged in the war knew that 11 November was the Feast of Saint of Martin Tours, a soldier who, through his encounter with a beggar, became a thoroughgoing man of peace, a man of God, a Christian. As Servant of God Msgr Luigi Giussani insisted: “The true protagonist of history is the beggar: Christ who begs for man’s heart, and man’s heart that begs for Christ.”

It is fitting, too, that we observe Veteran’s Day on Saint Martin’s Day. As General Douglas MacArthur said in his farewell speech before a Joint Session of Congress- “The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.” As a combat veteran myself, this rings true.

In a world that is just as dangerous and war-prone today, a world in which many are dying for lack of peace, in humility, let us ask- Sancte Martine Turonis, ora pro nobis- Saint Martin of Tours, pray for us.

All Saints

Readings: Revelation 7:2-4.9-14; Psalm 24:1-6; 1 John 3:1-3; Matthew 5:1-12a

In the end, when it is all said and done, when Christ returns and judges the living and dead, the Church will only consist of saints. “There is only one sadness,” it has been noted, “that is for us not to be saints.”¹ To disbelieve this is to place yourself in in danger of not being included in the white-robed multitude we heard about in our first reading.

How you live today and tomorrow matters. As for the past? Repentance is available. Your priorities are revealed by how you spend your time, not by giving the correct answer in Church by saying what you’re expected to say: “I put God first.” Is this really true? Something to ponder.

How often do you pray? By this I mean, how often do you dedicate time to prayer, to cultivating your relationship with God, through Christ, in the power of the Holy Spirit? A lie from the bowels of hell, one I sometimes even hear repeated by people who profess to be Christians, is that you cannot have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

Having an ever-deepening personal relationship with Christ is the entire point of the Christian life. Thomas à Kempis’ Imitation of Christ, which is the bestselling book of all-time after the Bible, start-to-finish, it is a dialogue with our Risen Lord. Taking a cue from our Responsorial, do you long to see the Lord’s face, to hear His voice, to be in His presence?

As G.K. Chesterton urged, “Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair.” Love, specifically agape, or self-sacrificing love, is the essence of holiness, of sanctity. It is the beating heart of the life of the Blessed Trinity. How this looks in reality is set forth beautifully in the Beatitudes from our Gospel tonight.

This amounts to being humble, empathetic/sympathetic, meek, merciful, desiring righteousness, committed to seeking peace. Teaching children the Golden Rule (i.e., “Do to others whatever you would have them do to you”²), they typically respond with something like, “If you’re nice to others, they will be nice to you.” But it doesn’t take a lot of experience to realize that this is often not how it works. What’s tough about being a Christian, is you must persist even when kindness isn’t reciprocated.

There is a reason why at the end of this teaching Jesus immediately speaks about persecution. To paraphrase the late theologian, Father Herbert McCabe: “if you don’t love you’re dead, and if you do, they’ll kill you.”³ Far from being pessimistic, this is hopeful.

Hope is not optimism! Nick Cave pointed out that “Unlike cynicism, hopefulness is hard-earned, makes demands upon us and can often feel like the most indefensible and lonely place on Earth.”⁴ Failure to recognize this is to place yourself in danger of despair.

Optimism means wishing for what you want to happen. Hope means surrendering yourself to God, abandoning yourself to Divine providence, recognizing God’s ways are not our ways and that His will is holy and perfect.⁵ As in all things that truly matter, Jesus, while in the garden, shows us the way, saying to the Father: “not as I will, but as you will.”⁶ “Surrender don’t come natural to me,” sang Rich Mullins, “I’d rather fight You for something I don’t really want than take what You give that I need.”⁷

This is hard because we live in a society that is literally hellbent on control. Because, culturally, being self-determining is the supreme value, surrendering control, strikes most people as crazy. This view is not merely unchristian, it is anti-Christian. It is anti-Christian because being fully committed to your own will is the surest way to evade sainthood.

Something easy to miss in our reading from Revelation is an elder asking the revelator, rhetorically, “Who are these wearing white robes?” Answering his own question, the elder goes on to say: “These are the ones who have survived the time of great distress.”⁸ It is always the time of great distress until Christ returns.

Our reading from 1 John says we are to become “like” Christ.⁹ Likeness, it bears noting, is not identity. You will never be Christ! To be children of God through Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit is the greatest gift imaginable. This pales in comparison to what we can become.

Becoming a saint cannot happen accidentally. It requires an intention born of deep desire. Holiness must be your deepest desire. Fourth among the Luminous Mysteries of Our Lady’s Holy Rosary is the Lord’s Transfiguration. The fruit of this mystery is the desire for holiness. We need to pray for this desire because it doesn’t come naturally. Rather, it is supernatural.

Cooperation with the grace given to you in baptism and confirmation as well as each time you make a good confession and receive Holy Communion is vital. While amazing, grace is not magic. Using Holy Communion as an example, it is like good nutrition. What makes certain foods “junk” foods is a lack nutritional value. To be healthy requires you to eat healthy foods. To eat in a healthy way requires intention and effort, not to mention self-denial. Cooperating with God’s grace requires intention and effort.

Finally, make some heavenly friends. Get to know some saints. Ask them to intercede for you. Wear a blessed medal featuring that saint(s). Read their words, study their lives. You don’t have to leap back 2000 years. The Church exists to make saints. There are holy men and women from every age of the Church. The darkest times produce the greatest saints.

Let us heed what Saint Paul wrote in the passage chosen by the Church for the scripture reading for Evening Prayer on this Solemnity:

Since we have these promises, beloved, let us purify ourselves from every defilement of flesh and spirit, and in the fear of God strive to fulfill our consecration perfectly¹⁰

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1 Alan Morris, OP. “Leon Bloy: A Man for the Modern World,” in Dominica Journal 33 no 2, 119.^↩
2 Matthew 7:12.^↩
3 Terry Eagleton. "Lunging, Flailing, Mispunching."London Review of Books, October 2006.^↩
4 Stephen Colbert Show. 15 August 2024. “Nick Cave On Singing With Johnny Cash And The Joyful, Uplifting Vibe Of His New Album, ‘Wild God’” Timestamp: 21:07-21:52.^↩
5 Isaiah 55:8.^↩
6 Matthew 26:39.^↩
7 Rich Mullins. Song "Hold Me Jesus."^↩
8 Revelation 7:13-14.^↩
9 1 John 3:2.^↩
10 2 Corinthians 7:1.^↩

All Hallows Eve

At sundown, the annual 3-day festival of All Saints/All Souls begins. Let's not forget the Christian foundation of these hallowed, that is, sanctified days. Tomorrow, 1 November, is the Solemnity of All Saints. This is a celebration of the communio sanctorum, the communion of holy people and things.

As Catholics, we have a sacramental view of the world. Creation, in its materiality, is good. For Catholics, a Church is not just a building, a paten is not just a plate, and a chalice is no mere cup. We have sacramentals, too. Around my neck I wear a chain. On that chain are blessed medals: one of Mary's Immaculate Heart and Jesus' Sacred Heart, Saint Mary Magdalene, and Venerable Matt Talbot. I also always carry a Rosary in my pocket. These are not just ordinary objects. They are sacamentals, means through which God channels grace. I also have a Saint Benedict medal on my nightstand, in my den, and both my working offices.

As a deacon, when I bless a Rosary, a medal, a statue, or other appropriate items, I always pray that it will be a channel of God's grace for the one who wears, carries, sees, and/or uses it.

2 November is the Feast of All Souls. All Souls is Roman Catholic Memorial Day, the day we remember our beloved dead, pray for them, and pray for all the souls in Purgatory- something we don't do enough. This also includes seeking indulgences.

In any case, tonight is Halloween. Have some fun. No need to go dark to do this. Always remember, by virtue of your baptism, your confirmation, your belonging to the communio sanctorum, "... you are children of the light and children of the day. We are not of the night or of darkness" (1 Thessalonians 5:5).

Trying to pick the pieces of a fragmented year, the late Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London," performed by Adam Sandler, is a Καθολικός διάκονος Halloween traditio:

Feast of Saints Simon & Jude, Apostles

Readings: Ephesians 2:19-22; Psalm 19:2-5; Luke 6:12-16

At what we might call the “high end” and “low end” of the Twelve, some apostles do not have their own feast day. At the high end, Saints Peter & Paul share a Solemnity on 29 June. Beyond that, the Church celebrates the Feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul on 25 January and the Feast of the Chair of Saint Peter on 22 February.

On the “low end,” today the Church celebrates the Feast of the Apostles Simon & Jude together. Unlike Saints Peter & Paul, Saints Simon & Jude do not have other days on the liturgical calendar. But the reason we celebrate them together isn’t because they’re second-rate apostles. Among the Twelve called by Jesus, there is no such category.

Rather, we remember Simon and Jude together because Tradition hands on that they met their martyrdom together in Persia, where they went to proclaim the Gospel, as Peter went to Rome, Thomas to India, and Paul throughout Asia Minor, etc. 

Simon is identified as a “zealot.” In Jesus’ time, a zealot was an observant Jew who fervently sought to restore the kingdom of Israel. Restoring Israel as a kingdom meant getting rid of the occupying Romans and having a descendant of David on the throne. What distinguished zealots from their fellow Jews, who, by and large, also wanted Israel restored, was that the zealots resorted to violence as a means to achieving their desired end.

Jesus, too, was a revolutionary. But His is a revolution of love, not violence. The Lord’s most revolutionary act was to die on the cross. Saint Simon, then, was converted away from violence to the Gospel. Love has its own violence, which is experienced inwardly. A modern-day successor of the apostles, Saint Oscar Romero, summed this up beautifully:

We have never preached violence, except the violence of love, which left Christ nailed to a cross, the violence that we must each do to ourselves to overcome our selfishness… The violence we preach is not the violence of the sword… It is the violence of love, of brotherhood…¹

Jude Thaddeus is the patron of hopeless causes and is held to be the author of the New Testament letter of Jude. It is a one-chapter book. If you want homework, go home tonight, take 5 minutes, and read the Letter of Jude.

An apostolos is Greek for one who is sent. In Greek, “martyr” simply means “witness.” Given that, we can safely assert that Jesus sent the Twelve to be martyrs, that is, witnesses of His life, death, and resurrection. In imitatio Christi, the Twelve were martyred.

We profess that the Church is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic. When asked what it means to profess the Church as “apostolic,” most Catholics, understandably, would likely say something about apostolic succession. This, of course, is not incorrect. It is, however, incomplete.

In professing the Church as apostolic, we mean that the Church is sent. “Mass” comes from the Latin word missa, which, in addition to meaning "to be sent," is also closely related to missio, or mission. Mass concludes with a dismissal ("dismissal" is why Mass is called "Mass"). So, we are sent forth to proclaim the Gospel, to be martyrs, that is witnesses.

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1 Oscar Romero. The Violence of Love. Trans. James R. Brockman, S.J., Farmington: Bruderhof, 2003, 25.^↩

Year B: Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Isaiah 53:10-11; Psalm 33:4-5.19-20.22; Hebrews 4:14-16; Mark 10:35-45

The Buddha was right about many things. He was certainly correct when he observed that to live is to suffer. This is not to say that life only consists of suffering. For most of us, thankfully, it does not. Digging beneath the surface a bit, most of us also know from experience that to love is to suffer.

From a Christian perspective, suffering is necessary, as troubling as that may sound. Let’s remember Jesus’ call to discipleship, which, in Mark’s Gospel, He issued a few chapters before the chapter we are currently reading:

Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it¹

Lest we fetishize it, you do not need to go in search of suffering. If you live and love enough, suffering will find you, practically guaranteed. It is also important to recognize that, in philosophical terms, God is never the formal cause of anyone’s suffering. In other words, God does not plan and carry out your suffering. It is self-evident that God permits or allows suffering in the world. This is the problem of theodicy. Understandably, it is something with which many people struggle mightily.

Our reading from the Letter to the Hebrews provides us with a deep and divinely revealed insight into the mystery of suffering when the inspired author notes that Jesus, our “high priest,” can “sympathize with our weaknesses” because, like us, He “has…been tested in every way.”² Yet, unlike us, he passed His test without sinning.

Being sinless, even though he was tempted, none of the Lord’s suffering was the result of bad choices. part. What should worry you more than suffering as the result of making sinful decisions, is prospering through sinful and even wicked choices.

Much suffering, maybe most, comes unbidden. It just happens. Such things are not God’s punishment for other, unrelated, things you’ve done. God is not petty nor hellbent on exacting revenge. God is love and, as such, desires your salvation. By recognizing this, you can use everything that happens to you not only for your own salvation but that of others.

Earlier in Hebrews, in a passage we heard two weeks ago, the inspired author observed that “in bringing many children to glory,” God made “the leader of their salvation perfect through suffering.”³ The leader of our salvation is Jesus Christ. This brings us back to Jesus’ invitation to take up your cross and, by a roundabout way, to today’s Gospel.

I love the original, British, version of the television comedy The Office (I have never sullied my eyes by watching the American knock-off). David Brent, the lead character played by Ricky Gervais, is a cringe character and the entire series is cringe comedy. James and John asking Jesus if they can sit on his right and on his left when He comes into glory is similarly cringeworthy.

Rather than simply tell them, “the places you ask to be reserved for yourselves are not mine to give,” Jesus asks them if they can suffer in the way he will suffer. Clearly clueless, which is often the state of the Twelve in Mark’s account, they reply- “We can.”⁴ Jesus, then, effectively tells them, “So be it.” He then lets them know their suffering in no way guarantees them what they ask for. Jesus entered His glory on the cross, where the places on His right and left were reserved for two thieves.⁵

The Lord only gets around to the cringe worthiness of their request when He responds to the equally shallow indignation the other ten show toward James and John. The way to be great, Jesus tells them, contra mundum, is to be small. The way to have more is to seek less, or even nothing at all. It is having the courage to be a nobody. A corollary to Jesus’ assertion is that the way to not be happy is to make your own happiness your focus.

God shows His preference for the nothings of this world over and over. Consider Saint Bernadette Soubirous, Saints Jacinta & Francisco Marto and their cousin Lucia dos Santos, all lowly peasant children to whom Our Lady deigned to appear. Think of the much-loved Little Flower, Saint Therese of Lisieux, or the simple Capuchin friar, Padre Pio, who never ventured beyond the southeastern part of his native Italy, or the patron saint of parish priests, who struggled through seminary, Saint John Vianney, to mention a few, familiar, and recent saints.

One who is genuinely great is the one who, like Jesus, seeks to serve and not to be served. Being “large and in charge” has no place in God’s kingdom. The English word “servant” is a translation of the Greek noun diakonos. Translated literally, diakonos is “deacon.” The words “serve” and “served” are from the Greek verb diakoneó.

Going beyond this, Jesus gives the Twelve the key to Apostolic leadership. Because they are the Successors of the Apostles, this refers to specifically to the office of bishop (everything in the scriptures is not directed at everyone).⁶ Not only are they to be "deacons" of all but doulos, that is, slaves of all. As Saint Paul wrote in his First Letter to the Corinthians: “I have made myself a slave to all so as to win over as many as possible.”⁷

While deacons are ordained and sacramentally empowered for the threefold diakonia of liturgy, word, and charity, every Christian, by virtue of baptism, confirmation, and genuine participation in the Eucharist, is empowered for Gospel service, for evangelization, for spreading the Gospel. Just as there is a priesthood of all the baptized, there is a diaconate of the all the baptized.

And so, dear friends in Christ, strengthened by the Eucharist, it is this service, this ministry, we are sent forth to engage in at the end of Mass. In essence, it is evangelization. It is to “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord.”⁸

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1 Mark 8:34.^↩
2 Hebrews 4:15.^↩
3 Hebrews 2:10.^↩
4 Mark 10:39-40.^↩
5 Mark 15:27.^↩
6 Second Vatican Council. Dogmatic Constitution on the Church [Lumen Gentium], sec. 20.^↩
7 1 Corinthians 9:19.^↩
8 Roman Missal. “The Order of Mass.” The Concluding Rites, sec. 144.^↩

How Occasional? Eighteen years on

I haven't been posting much since Easter. This is not my first pause over the years of this labor of love. Since Good Friday, when I took a hiatus, I have posted pretty sparingly. There is nothing to this apart from the fact that I was busy on Good Friday and Holy Saturday and, on Easter Sunday, I was utterly exhausted. As a result, I made a difficult and deliberate choice to just let it go and not post anything.

As the Easter octave unfolded, not only did I decide not to post here but I went largely inactive on social media. Initially, I vacated for six straight weeks. I have to say, that was liberating, de-toxifying. I did not grasp the effect frequent social media engagement had on me until I just walked away. Since that break, I dip in and out of social media.

Two months ago, I read on great article on The Gospel Coalition (a Reformed site from which I derive much benefit): "Why I Left Social Media—and Won’t Go Back." I am not going to delete all my accounts, but I don't plan to "be back" in the way I have been for the past decade. I shared the TGC article with my wife. As a result, over the next few weeks we mutually decided to scale back our social media use. When I am not engaging (Facebook has been my primary platform), I deactivate my account.

Blogging, even when it pretty much amounts to posting my homilies, takes time as well. It takes more time to sit and compose posts on various things. To not write about or comment on matters of interest doesn't mean I've stopped following what interests me.

Time is the basic ingredient of life. On the whole, my lack of posting is a positive, not a negative development. I have a full life. By "full," I mean most of my time every day is actively spent. While I have flirted with the idea of ending this effort, I have decided to post when I have time and there is something of interest to post. Way back in 2006, which was the year I began blogging (weird verb) in earnest, I composed a post entitled "How Occasional?" Looking at it now, I didn't answer the question. I didn't answer it because I did not know the answer. I still don't. So, we'll see.

As I almost always do when blogging about my blogging, I have to mention that Καθολικός διάκονος has been a valuable vehicle of growth for me. This blog began life as "Scott Dodge for Nobody," which was a blatant rip-off of a now-ended late Sunday night local radio show,"Tom Waits for Nobody." This past August, I passed 18 years! I was 40 years old when I started and 41 when I began in earnest. I was only a few years ordained. Another leitmotif in recent years here is how quickly time passes.

So, in addition to posting this update, I will post my homily for last Sunday, the Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time. I urge you to stay tuned. Advent is coming quickly. The occasion of a new year of grace may well prompt a more sustained effort

Year B Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Exodus 16:2-4.12-15; Ps 78:3-4.23-25.54; Eph 4:17.20-24; John 6: 24-35

“I am the bread of life,”¹ says Jesus to those who ask for “the bread of God… which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”² Keep in mind, the crowd followed Jesus across the Sea of Galilee was seeking another free meal, not eternal life. Imagine their surprise!

It is easy for the provocativeness of Jesus’ answer to be lost on us as 21st Catholics. We are well-versed in understanding Jesus’ “Real Presence” in the consecrated bread and wine. Considering the Eucharistic Revival, we must face squarely our loss of a sense of wonder and awe at the deep mystery we participate in so regularly.

For example, how often have you participated in the Eucharist, received Holy Communion, and then, when life throws you a curve, asked, “Where is God? Where is Jesus?” This is like those in today’s Gospel who ask Jesus to perform a sign “that we may see and believe in you.”³ Is Jesus giving himself to us, as we like to repeat (a bit ad nauseum), body, blood, soul and divinity, that is, wholly and completely, not enough? It is important to bear always bear in mind what the Lord went through to make hmself present to us on this altar.

Just what is the point of his complete self-giving, anyway?

“This is the work of God,” Jesus says, “that you believe in the one he sent.”⁴ When we gather, by the power of the Holy Spirit, God indeed sends his Son in a unique and powerful way. In the Eucharist, Christ is sent and becomes present in four distinct and integrally related ways.

First, Christ is present in the assembly, in the gathering of the baptized. Christ is also present in the person of the priest. He is really present in the proclamation of the scriptures, which are to be made flesh in our lives through our participation at the one table of his word and body. Finally, he is really present in the bread and the wine, which we eat and drink.⁵ What this all builds toward is not the moment of consecration. It builds toward the moment of communion!

Having sent his Son to us, God then sends us to perform his works, which flow from believing in Jesus Christ, “the one he sent.”⁶ Each of us, whether intentionally or not, lives what we believe. Because of the demands of discipleship, a Christian must live intentionally. Believing in Jesus Christ inspires one to live in a particular and, in our time, an increasingly peculiar, way. It has been observed- though not by Flannery O’Connor- “You shall know the truth, and it will make you odd.”⁷

Preaching is not entertainment. Taking a cue from our reading from Ephesians, preaching is for telling others about Christ and teaching Christ. It is aimed at conversion, the renewal of minds, so those who hear can live “God’s way in righteousness and holiness of truth.”⁸ To enable those who hear, as well as the preacher, to incarnate God’s word.

La multiplication des pains, by James Tissot, 1886-1896

You have not only heard of Christ, but you have also “learned Christ,” and more than learning Christ, you have received him who is the Bread of Life. This should change you, convert you, renew your mind to the point of making you over time, through experience, what our second reading calls as a “new self.”⁹

Something Flannery O’Connor did write is relevant to this. In a letter to her fellow writer Cecil Dawkins, O’Connor stated: “All human nature vigorously resists grace because grace changes us and the change is painful.”¹⁰ Put simply, what the Lord asks of those who consider themselves his followers is what is not possible without him. But he gives you the means to do what you cannot do without him. He gives you grace.

Grace is God sharing divine life with us. Hence, grace is nothing other than God sharing himself with us, which is precisely what happens in such an astonishingly concrete way through the Eucharist. Yet, as O’Connor, in her brutally honest way, went on to observe in the same letter: “Human nature is so faulty that it can resist any amount of grace and most of the time it does.”¹¹

Often, like the ancient Israelites, instead of being recreated in the image of Christ, we look back at our former way of life longingly, despite knowing its futility, despite knowing it leads to death. We are often content to work for and eat the food that perishes. The Bread of Life, Jesus Christ, is the antidote to being toward death, the cure for what Walker Percy (another great Catholic writer of the last century) called in the title of his last novel, The Thanatos Syndrome.

In the verse immediately following the last verse of today’s Gospel in John 6, which is part of a six-verse interlude that is not picked up next week, Jesus tells this same crowd that “although you have seen me, you do not believe.”¹² What a damning indictment!

“The Holy Spirit,” O’Connor wrote, “very rarely shows Himself on the surface of anything.”¹³ This includes the Eucharist. It is not intuitively obvious to the casual observer that the bread and wine are transformed into Christ’s body and blood. What happens on the altar is not a magic trick. It is not hocus pocus, which, incidentally, was derived from the Latin words of consecration: Hoc est enim corpus meum- This is my body.

You and I, along with everyone who partakes of Christ’s body and blood, are the only convincing proof of this transformation. But only if, not resisting the painful change grace seeks to bring about, you are transformed.

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1 John 6:35.^↩
2 John 6:33.^↩
3 John 6:30.^↩
4 John 6:29.^↩
5 Second Vatican Council. Dogmatic Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy [Sacrosanctum Concilium], sec. 7.^↩
6 John 6:29.^↩
7 Mike A. Shapiro Blog. “A source for the quotation ‘You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd.’” 21 January 2021. Accessed 3 August 2024.^↩
8 Ephesians 4:20-21.24.^↩
9 Ephesians 4:24.^↩
10 Flannery O'Connor. The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O’Connor, 307. Macmillan, 1988.^↩
11 Ibid.^↩
12 John 6:36.^↩
13 O'Connor. The Habit of Being, 307.^↩

Year B Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Amos 7:12-15; Psalm 85:9-14; Ephesians 1:3-10; Mark 6:7-13

To be a Christian is to be called. The Lord sends those he calls. In today’s Gospel, Jesus, having already called the Twelve, sends them. While he “gave them authority over unclean spirits” and they cured many sick people, they were primarily sent to preach repentance.¹

Along with our Gospel, our first reading from the book of the prophet Amos provides some insight into who God calls as well as what he sends them to do. Amos was a shepherd “and a dresser of sycamores.”² LLike Jesus, was also not of the tribe of Levi, the priestly tribe, Amos was not a priest. Nonetheless, God called him to be a prophet.

Amos lived in the Northern Kingdom of Israel, in Galilee. This is the area where, centuries later, Jesus came from. Judah is where Jerusalem is and, being the holy city, where the Temple was. The main Israelite shrine in the Northern Kingdom, as well as its capital, was Bethel. It was to Bethel that God sent Amos to prophesy. His prophesy was to call those prophets and leaders to repentance, back to fidelity to God’s covenant.

As you might imagine, Amos’ prophesying went over like a lead balloon. He was told to leave Bethel and go prophesy in Judah. In essence, the chief priest, Amaziah, told Amos, “Get out of here. Who do you think you are to speak to me, to speak to the king, like that?” This should take us back to our Gospel for last Sunday.

If you remember, after healing, casting out demons, and preaching repentance throughout the rest of Galilee, Jesus went home to Nazareth. On the sabbath, he taught in the synagogue. As a result of his preaching, the devout people in Nazareth, Mark tells us, “took offense at him.”³ Their offense caused the Lord to observe: “A prophet is not without honor except in his native place and among his own kin and in his own house.”⁴ You see, being Messiah means that Jesus is a prophet.

Immediately after being baptized, a child is anointed with sacred chrism with the words: “As Christ was anointed Priest, Prophet, and King, so may you live always as a member of his body, sharing everlasting life.”⁵ “By Baptism,” the Catechism teaches, we “share in the priesthood of Christ, in his prophetic and royal mission.” Together, the Catechism continues, the baptized “are ‘a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people, that [they] may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called [them] out of darkness into his marvelous light.’ Baptism gives a share in the common priesthood of all believers.”⁶

Your being called and sent is no accident, at least if our second reading from Ephesians is to be believed: “In love he destined us for adoption to himself through Jesus Christ.”⁷ This is a clear reference to baptism, through which you are reborn, through Christ, by the Holy Spirit’s power, as a child of God. Through the blood of Christ, “we have redemption…, the forgiveness of transgressions…”⁸

Amos, the prophet, by Naomi, used under the rules of Creative Common License

It is only by experiencing the sweet fruits of repentance that you are able to share them with others. It is then, like Amos, like the Twelve, you are sent on mission, so that you can evangelize, share the Good News. Because it is only then than you can tell others what difference knowing Jesus makes in your life.

Living as we do at the intersection of time and eternity, truly knowing Jesus makes a lot of difference. It is easy to be mistaken about this difference and all too common to exaggerate it, often to an absurd degree. Michael Knott, who was a pillar of Christian alternative music and who passed away earlier this year, when asked the usual question during a lengthy interview, something like “Who are you?,” he replied:

Basically, I'm a human being and I believe in Christ, period. It doesn't make my life rosy, it doesn't make my life terrible, it doesn't do anything with that. I know Christ⁹

What Knott nailed was that knowing Christ isn’t transactional. In other words, it doesn’t work by believing in Christ and neatly following all the rules in exchange for nothing bad ever happening to you, let alone a promise to live your best life now. As our Gospel from three Sundays ago showed us, Jesus is with us in and through the storm, even when, maybe especially when, it doesn’t seem like it, when it seems like he’s asleep. Rather, as the psalmist puts in Psalm 23: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”¹⁰

To know Christ, to really know him, means that being a Christian constitutes your identity, becomes who you are. As Saint Paul insisted, “whoever is in Christ is a new creation: the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come.”¹¹ Knowing Christ isn’t just a way to add a little morality, a little religion, to your life. That is old and dead, not new and alive.

Like Jesus in the garden, you must learn, to borrow the title of a great spiritual classic, to abandon yourself to divine providence. In other words, to trust him even when the chips are down and when the deck seems stacked against you.

The only way to really know Christ is to experience what I am trying to describe for yourself. Only then, can you fulfill your prophetic call. Only then can you be sent to proclaim the Gospel, that is, to tell others what it means, through experience, to say, “I know Christ.”

Only once you truly repent, can you preach repentance. For a Christian, repentance is just another word for redemption, another word for true freedom, another word for realizing what the Lord means when he says, “Blessed are you…”

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1 Mark 6:7.13.12.^↩
2 Amos 7:14.^↩
3 Mark 6:3.^↩
4 Mark 6:4.^↩
5 Rite of Baptism for Children, “Rite of Baptism for Several Children,” sec. 62.^↩
6 Catechism of the Catholic Church, sec. 1268; 1 Peter 2:9.^↩
7 Ephesians 3:4-5.^↩
8 Ephesians 3:7.^↩
9 Doug Van Pelt & Daniel Johnston. “Michael Knott- A Candid Interview.” HM, 2003.^↩
10 Psalm 23:4.^↩
11 2 Corinthians 5:17.^↩

Monday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Hosea 2:16.17c.18.21-22; Ps 145:2-9; Matthew 9:18-26

Our Gospel today is Saint Matthew’s version of events first written about in Mark’s Gospel. This should sound familiar because Mark’s version of these things was our Gospel reading for the Sunday before last.

Our understanding of today’s Gospel should be shaped by our first reading with which the Church pairs it. Our first reading today is from the Book of the Prophet Hosea. Before getting to our passage for today, a little background is useful.

As is the case with the prophets, both major and minor (Hosea is a minor prophet), Hosea was commissioned to call Israel back to fidelity to her covenant with God. One way God commanded Hosea to do this was through his marriage to a woman named Gomer.

Gomer was a practitioner of “the world’s oldest profession.” In other words, she was a prostitute. Nonetheless, God called his prophet to marry this unreformed harlot. Not only did they marry but they had children together. Despite this, Gomer still plied her trade.

What we have, then, is a pretty ham-fisted allegory: Hosea is God and Gomer is Israel. While God remains faithful to Israel, his beloved, Israel plays the harlot, chasing after other gods. One of the many things John Calvin was right about is that “the human mind is, so to speak, a perpetual forge of idols.”¹

The truth of Calvin’s assertion is not only verified in the exploits of ancient Israel but also through the history of the Church. One of the four “marks” of the Church is that she is holy. Just before saying the Prayer Over the Gifts, the priest says to the assembly- “Pray, brethren, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God, the almighty Father.” To which we respond: “May the Lord accept this sacrifice at your hands for the praise and glory of his name, for our good and the good of all his holy Church.”² The Church is his, meaning Christ’s.

In answer to the first question of an interview he gave at the beginning of his pontificate, “Who is Jorge Mario Bergoglio?,” Pope Francis said, “I do not know what might be the most fitting description.... I am a sinner. This is the most accurate definition. It is not a figure of speech, a literary genre. I am a sinner.”³ The Church is holy because she is the Bride of a Husband who is indefatigably faithful, loving, and forgiving: Jesus Christ. The Church is holy because it is Christ’s, not because you or I, or even the Pope, belong to it.

Hosea and Gomer, by Barry Moser, used under the rules of Creative Common License

Like Gomer, like ancient Israel, Christ’s Bride is not always faithful. This is why the Church earned the patristic moniker casta meretrix- chaste whore.⁴This points to an inseparable union of the human and the divine that constitutes the Church. At least for now, the Church is a union between sinful, unfaithful, idol-chasing people, and her holy and wholly faithful Lord.

What makes our reading from Hosea so beautiful is that it tells us of God’s tender fidelity not just despite our individual and collective infidelity but, like Hosea, because of it. This suggests that great line from the Exsultet, sung at the Easter Vigil:

O happy fault
    that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!⁵

Or this from Preface III of the Sundays in Ordinary Time:

For we know it belongs to your boundless glory, that you came to the aid of mortal beings with your divinity and even fashioned for us a remedy out of mortality itself, that the cause of our downfall might become the means of our salvation, through Christ our Lord⁶

In light of this perhaps we should also understand today’s Gospel as something of an allegory. The Church is the woman with the hemorrhages who Jesus heals and makes whole. The Church is also the community of those who, through the mystery of Baptism, have died, been buried, and risen with Christ to new life.

Indeed, as we sang in the Responsory, the Lord is “gracious and merciful.”⁷ As Christians, as members of Christ’s Body (through the Eucharist, He becomes one flesh with his Church), let us recommit, with God’s help, to never again say, “My baal.”⁸ Let us be ever mindful that, in the end, only those who, forsaking all other gods, say to Christ “My husband” may enter the Wedding Feast of the Lamb.

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1 John Calvin. Institutes of the Christian Religion. I.11.8.^↩
2 Roman Missal, The Order of Mass, The Liturgy of the Eucharist, sec. 29.^↩
3 Fr. Anthony Spadero. “Interview with Pope Francis.”^↩
4 See Hans Urs von Balthasar, “Casta Meretrix,” in Explorations in Theology, vol. 2, Spouse of the Word, trans. John Saward (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1991), 193–288..^↩
5 Roman Missal, Sunday of the Resurrection, The Easter Vigil, The Easter Proclamation, sec. 19.^↩
6 Roman Missal, The Order of the Mass, Preface III of the Sundays in Ordinary Time, sec. 54.^↩
7 Psalm 145:8.^↩
8 Hosea 2:18.^↩

Year B Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Wis 1:13-15.2:23-24; Ps 30:2.4-6.11-13; 2 Cor 8:7.9.13-15; Mark 4:21-43

“Death is a part of life,” or so we’re told. This is true insofar as all of us will die. As Jesus, drawing attention back to the beginning in Genesis, pointed out to those who asked him about divorce and who noted that Moses permitted it, from the beginning it was not so.¹ As our reading from Wisdom tells us: “God formed man to be imperishable.”²

As the inspired author of the Book of Wisdom notes: God created human beings “of his own nature.”³ This amounts to the same thing we learn about in the first creation account in Genesis: man and woman were made in God’s image and likeness.⁴ While God’s image, the imago Dei, cannot be lost, our likeness to God is lost through sin.

While we are not born merely to die, because death entered the world, it is not enough to be born in order not to die. You must be reborn by water and the Spirit. The primary effect of the sacrament of baptism is to restore the baptized to a state of original grace. Through Jesus Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit, our likeness to God can be restored by grace.

This same grace is operative in the sacrament of penance, which is an extension of baptism. While it may seem old-fashioned to say so, you should strive to live in a state of grace. What does it mean to endeavor to live in a state of grace? It doesn’t mean being perfect, even though we should strive for and deeply desire perfection, which, in a Christian context, can also be called holiness.

The fruit of the fourth Luminous Mystery of the Blessed Virgin’s Most Holy Rosary, which mystery is Jesus’ Transfiguration, is a desire for holiness, a desire for transfiguration, transformation, conversion, the desire for sanctity. What it means to be holy is to be like Jesus Christ. What it means to be like Christ is to love perfectly, to love God with your entire being, and to love your neighbor as yourself. All of the various ways we have to access grace, even the sacraments, are means to this end.

Today’s Gospel powerfully shows us how Jesus rescues and restores us. While there is no reason to doubt the historicity of these encounters with Jesus, these were not remembered and written down to be handed merely as biography.

What I am getting at is illustrated by last Sunday’s Gospel. If you remember, it began with Jesus climbing into the boat with his disciples and saying, “Let us cross to the other side.”⁵ Perhaps the best way to grasp this episode is as an allegory.

Uou and I, all of us hearing God’s word together, are the disciples to whom Jesus speaks. The boat is the Church. The sea, which in the ancient world, including for the Jewish people, was a place of chaos, a place where dangers lurked, where storms often proved deadly, is what we experience as we make our way through life to what the old hymn calls “God’s celestial shore.”⁶ Jesus is the master of wind, the sea, the sky, of all there is. Therefore, because we are in the boat with him, we need not fear even while the storm rages.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus’ bringing Jairus’ daughter back to life is interrupted by the woman who sought healing from something that afflicted her for twelve years. Let’s translate this into something more relatable for most of us. In terms of sin, how long have you struggled with the same damned thing? How often does it seem like your confession is just the same thing over and over? It’s easy to get discouraged.

You need to remember three things. First, Jesus has already won the victory. Second, you’re never beaten until you quit. Third, you will get tired of asking for God’s mercy before God tires being merciful to you, which requires nothing other than your acknowledgment of and sorrow for your sins. Divine Mercy is infinite.

What God limits is evil, even though this is sometimes far from evident. Pope Saint John Paul II insisted that the cross of Christ “marks the divine limit placed upon evil.” Through the cross, he continued, “evil is radically overcome by good, hate by love, death by resurrection.”⁷

The fruit of the third Luminous Mystery is repentance and trust in God. Maybe this is going off on a tangent but pray the Rosary. If possible, pray the Rosary every day. In a letter he wrote to an archbishop, Pope Pius XII noted that the Rosary is “the compendium of the entire Gospel.”⁸

To trust God is to trust Jesus, who, as Son of the Father, is also God. Each Christian amid life’s storms must not ask, “Jesus, why don’t you care that I am perishing?” Instead. We must learn to say, even if only in a quivering voice, “Jesus, I trust in You.” Thomas à Kempis in his timeless spiritual classic The Imitation of Christ, writes about Jesus saying,

Come to Me when it is not well with thee.
This is that which most of all hinders heavenly comfort, that thou art slow in turning thyself to prayer⁹

These are lovely words. But like those featured in today’s Gospel as well as last week’s, we must get beyond the sentimentality of these words and verify this truth through experience. Is Jesus trustworthy, or isn’t he? Everything hinges on the answer to this question! Proof in favor of the Lord’s trustworthiness is not whether he does your bidding according to your timing and in just the way you ask him to. Rather, it lies in abandoning yourself, like he did, to the loving care of the Father, who is committed only to your good.

Don Francisco, a contemporary Christian music artist from years past, has an amazing ability to bring Gospel stories alive through his songs. He wrote an amazing song called “A Little Closer to Jesus,” the first verse of which, along with the chorus, strikes me as very illuminating today:

Well, a woman with a burden of sickness twelve years
Heard that Jesus was coming her way;
She didn't stop to worry 'bout her doubts and her fears
She had to fight for every step of the way
Through the crowds that were pressing around Him
Through the heat and the dust of the road,
And when she touched his cloak, God healed her body
He lifted her heavy load

If I can get a little closer to Jesus
Just a little bit closer to Jesus…
Everything's gonna be all right¹⁰

For those who like to be given something to do in a homily: this week, get a little closer to Jesus by praying the Rosary each day. To Jesus through Mary is the fruit of the Rosary’s second Luminous Mystery- the miracle at the wedding feast of Cana. Given that this happens during a feast, one can taste a Eucharistic undertone, pointing us to the Wedding Feast of the Lamb. As Catholics, we must always be aware that it is impossible to get closer to Jesus than through the Eucharist.

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1 See Mark 10:3-7.^↩
2 Wisdom 2:23.^↩
3 Wisdom 2:23.^↩
4 Genesis 1:26.^↩
5 Mark 4:25.^↩
6 "I'll Fly Away."^↩
7 Pope John Paul II. Memory and Identity: Conversations at the Dawn of a Millennium.^↩
8 Cited by Pope Paul VI in Apostolic Exhortation Marialis Cultus, sec. 42.^↩
9 Thomas à Kempis. The Imitation of Christ, Book III, Chap 30, verse 1.^↩
10 Don Francisco, “Closer to Jesus.”^↩

Monday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Kings 21:1-6; Ps 5:2-7; Matthew 5:38-42

Jesus, Ahab, or Jezebel? This is the question posed to us by our readings. What do you do when life doesn’t go your way because of someone else? Do you mope about, lamenting loudly about that person? Do you, in the words of the Foo Fighters song “Monkey Wrench,” waste another night planning [your] revenge?” Or, do you recognize that things aren’t going well and practice benevolent detachment, giving that and everything else that worries you to the Lord?

Our Gospel reading for this evening is one of those very challenging passages from Saint Matthew’s Gospel. One temptation that must resisted when dealing with a passage like this is to water it down, attempting to make it less convicting. Let’s be clear, in this passage, the Lord doesn’t only tell us not to seek revenge. As his follower, he teaches you to turn the other cheek, to go out of your way for the one whom you perceive has wronged you.

In his letter to the Romans, Saint Paul summarizes the response of a Christian disciple well: “Do not be conquered by evil but conquer evil with good.”¹​ This isn’t just a slogan. The passage begins with “Vengeance is mine, I will repay says the Lord.”² By conquering evil with good, the apostle tells us that by doing what Jesus instructs in today’s Gospel, “you will heap burning coals” on the head of one does you evil.³

God is a God of justice. Like there is no love without truth, there is no mercy without justice. In his encyclical letter on hope, Pope Benedict XVI insisted: “Only God can create justice.”⁴ “The image of the Last Judgement is not primarily an image of terror,” Pope Benedict continued, “but an image of hope; for us it may even be the decisive image of hope.”⁵ Mercy does not cancel out justice.

Jesus at Bethany, by James Tissot 186-1894

Among fallen and sinful human beings, justice easily becomes revenge. Revenge is to justice what indifference is to mercy. Mercy is only genuine when extended with the recognition that a true wrong has been committed. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth is known as the lex talionis. The lex talionis is the law of retribution.

Early Christians explicitly rejected retributive justice, choosing restorative justice instead. Concerning judicial punishment, the Catechism teaches that “in addition to preserving public order and the safety of persons, has a medicinal scope: as far as possible it should contribute to the correction of the offender.”⁶ In this regard, the Church views capital punishment as retributive, a punishment that leaves no possibility for the offender to correct.

In the musical Fiddler on the Roof, in a meeting of the men of the village, fearing another pogrom, one man says that rather than leaving, “We should defend ourselves!” Another man yells, “An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.” To which Tevye, the main character replies: “Very good. That way the whole world will be blind and toothless.” Finally, the village leader says, “Rabbi, we’ve been waiting for the messiah all our lives. Wouldn’t this be a good time for him to come?” The old rabbi responds: “We’ll have to wait for him someplace else.”

My friends, Jesus came to make the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk, the toothless chew. We are his disciples only insofar as we join his messianic mission. As we sang in our Responsory: “Lord, it is good to give thanks to you.”

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1 Romans 12:21.^↩
2 Romans 12:19.^↩
3 Romans 12:20.^↩
4 Pope Benedict XVI. Encyclical Letter Spe Salvi [On Christian Hope], sec. 44.^↩
5 Ibid.^↩
6 Catechism of the Catholic Church, sec. 2266.^↩

Year B Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Ezk 17:22-24; Ps 92:2-3.13-16; 2 Cor 5:6-10; Mark 4:26-34

As indicated in our reading today from 2 Corinthians, as Christians, “we walk by faith, not by sight.”¹ What this means in practical terms is that we don’t always, or even usually, see the fruit of our spiritual endeavors. We’re used to living by the law of exchange, which, in our society, threatens to make all relationships quid pro quo, characterized by “You do something for me, and I will do something of less or equal value for you.” As Bob Hope once quipped about his comedy partner Bing Crosby: “There's nothing I wouldn't do for Bing, and there's nothing he wouldn't do for me. And that's the way we go through life—doing nothing for each other!”

As Jesus shows, divine life is not ordered that way. Rather than the law of exchange, the divine economy adheres to the law of gift. This means rather than this-for-that it is simply this, given the impossibility of giving something equal in return.

Think about how Christian life would be if for everything God gives you, God explicitly expected something in return to the point that if you did not return what was expected, God would take away what he gave you. But it isn’t that we don’t owe God anything. We owe God everything. It’s just that, having given us his only Son, God isn’t interested in collecting debts. God is gracious. Rather than take back what he gives, God leaves it to us whether to accept his gift, which is nothing other than himself. A gift not received is a gift forefeited.

What do you owe God? You owe God praise and thanksgiving! Among the reasons it is important to attend Mass each Sunday is to thank God, to praise him for the gift of his only begotten Son. Another reason is to offer yourself, again, as a living sacrifice to the Father, through Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit.² As you have no doubt heard- in the Eucharist, Christ gives himself to us body, blood, soul, and divinity.

“Eucharist,” as you are likely aware, means thanksgiving. Coming as it does from the Greek verb eucharisteō, more specifically it means simply to “give thanks.” As the suffix -urgy indicates, liturgy refers first and foremost to something we do. It’s easy to lose sight of the reality that the Eucharist is an exchange of gifts but not a quid pro quo.

Each Eucharistic Prayer starts with the priest saying, “The Lord be with you,” to which we instinctively reply: “And with your spirit.” He then exhorts us “Lift up your hearts.” We reply by saying what we should also be doing: “We lift them up to the Lord.” The priest then invites us to “give thanks to the Lord our God,” to which we respond, “It is right and just.”³

That this praise and thanksgiving is what we owe and should freely desire to give God is further indicated by the beginning of the Preface to the Eucharistic Prayer:

It is truly right and just, our duty and our salvation,
always and everywhere to give you thanks,
Lord, holy Father, almighty and eternal God⁴

In what does the Eucharistic exchange consist? In the bread and wine transformed into his body and blood by the power of the Holy Spirit, Christ gives us himself whole and entire and in doing so, refills us with divine life, which is infinite, eternal, and inexhaustible.

What do we offer God? In our humble gifts of bread and wine, along with the collection, which is not some new-fangled invention but part of the liturgy from the beginning, which are presented to the priest at the foot of the altar, we offer ourselves, whole and complete. This ritual act is deeply symbolic. Hence, those who bring forth the gifts should be members of the faithful through baptism who represent the rest of the gathered baptized.

What we see is a ritual act, one that always runs the risk of becoming ho-hum, just one of those things we do at Mass for some reason. What we believe is the reality to which the ritual symbolically points: through our humble gifts of bread, wine, and collection, the offering of ourselves to God, through Christ, by the Spirit’s power. By means of these gifts, we offer ourselves body, blood, soul, and humanity. While this is visible to all, one needs to understand the symbol that underlies the ritual to make the offering. In other words, it is not intuitively obvious to the casual observer, too often even to the Catholic observer, what is happening.

In Eucharistic Prayer III, with now consecrated bread and wine on the altar, the priest prays: “May he [Christ] make of us an eternal offering to you [the Father].”⁵ Like the tender shoot taken from the top of the mighty cedar tree in our reading from Ezekiel and the mustard seed from our Gospel, nourished by the Eucharist, we grow ever more into the image of Christ, becoming not just the ekklesia, the assembly, the Church, but the veritable Body of Christ.⁶ God takes our gifts, makes them himself, and then gives us back something infinitely greater than what we offered, gathering us to himself and uniting us to one another.

Spiritual growth is usually imperceptible to the ones experiencing it. But whether you see it, feel it, or in some other way sense it, walking by faith and not by sight, continue trusting “that the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.”⁷ And “as we await the blessed hope and the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ,” do not take God for granted and do not be presumptuous, using God’s patience to exempt yourself from the demands of discipleship.⁸ Above all, do not neglect the Eucharist, which is an indispensable means through which God accomplishes his good work: the redemption of the world.

As we sang in our Responsory: “Lord, it is good to give thanks to you.”

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1 2 Corinthians 5:7.^↩
2 Romans 12:1-2.^↩
3 Roman Missal, The Order of Mass, Eucharistic Prayer III, sec. 107.^↩
4 Roman Missal, The Order of Mass, Preface VI of the Sundays in Ordinary Time, sec. 57.^↩
5 Roman Missal, The Order of Mass, Eucharistic Prayer III, sec. 113.^↩
6 Ezekiel 17:24; Mark 4:30-32.^↩
7 Philippians 1:6.^↩
8 Roman Missal, The Order of Mass, sec. 125.^↩