Does forgiveness forego justice?

Readings: 1 Sam 26:2, 7-9, 12-13, 22-23 Ps 101:1-4.8.10.12-13; 1 Cor 15:45-49; Luke 6:27-38

When we encounter such challenging teachings it is very important, on the one hand, not to just explain them away, reducing them nothing, thus failing to be challenged when it comes Lord's most difficult teachings. On the other, it is important to try understanding how this might apply under certain circumstances.

Unlike other some other passages, like saying pluck out your eye, cut-off off your hand, etc., Jesus in today's Gospel is not speaking hyperbole. He talking directly "To you who hear," that is, to anyone interested in following Him. Especially during His Passion, He taught this by His example.

Loving one's enemy should be a hallmark of being a Christian. Without forgiveness, the world is a dark, brutal, and violent place. Hate and resentment are evils a Christian must avoid at all cost. Christians intentionally do not live by the lex talionis, which demands an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. While we may at times understandably and even sometimes justifiably get mad, seeking revenge by trying get even is not a Christian value. Rather, we strive, we struggle to live by what Jesus taught so explicitly in passages like today's Gospel.

Loving your enemy requires to do good to him/her. Loving your enemy requires you to pray for her/him. What is an enemy? An enemy is someone who "has it out for you," someone who actively seeks to harm, oppress, and/or harass you. Saul was David's enemy. He hated David so badly that he lauched a military campaign to wipe out David and his small band of men.

Why did Saul want to kill David? Because he saw David as his rival for power. As history shows, tyrants hate rivals and critics and so seek to eliminate anyone who poses a challenge. The most permanent way is by killing them. Yet, when David had the chance to easily kill his enemy, who was waging mortal combat against him, he did not take it. Rather, trusting in God, David chose to spare Saul's life, which held in his hand.

For a Christian, loving your enemies is one of those things that should set you apart, make you stand out. It is what makes you salt and light for the world.

This brings up an important question: Are we to suffer injustice passively? Are we to ignore and not intervene or come to the defense or assistance of someone who is being treated unjustly? In the first instance, as with so many things, it depends. The lives of saints are rife with episodes of holy women and men enduring injustices and relying solely on God for vindication. Of course, due to the fact they're canonized saints, they were vindicated, even if, as in some cases, posthumously. When comes to myself, I need to be discerning.

the late Congressman John Lewis

I would say, even on Christian terms, injustice, especially towards the weak and vulnerable, should be challenged and resisted. Non-violent resistance is, at least for me, the most courageous form of resistance. Many people in the United States in the 1960s, like the late Congressman John Lewis, a founding member of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, set a beautiful example for later generations. Led by Dr, King, at its roots and to its very core, the Civil Rights movement was a Christian movement. So as not sound too triumphalist, one of the hallmarks of it being a Christian movement was that you didn't have to be a Christian to join in!

To be effective, resistance to injustice needs to be creative. It can be direct or indirect.

Often we want to fight fire with fire, to meet force with force. It usually takes a lot more courage, like the man in Tiananmen Square who stood in front of a tank, than attempting blow-for-blow confrontation. Through such actions, one uses one's humanity to appeal directly to the humanity of the other. The risk, of course, is that the one being appealed to may not respond in a human, let alone humane, way. As Christians, this is something we should understand deeply. Because the one engaging in this kind of direct resistance is willing to lay down his life for what is right on behalf of other people, it is an act of love, an imitatio Christi.

One of John Lewis' frequent refrains was, when faced with injustice, "never give up, never give in, never become bitter or hostile." He lived in the certainty that love, his love, would outlast the fear and anger of his enemies. He learned this through experience, by practicing it sometimes under life-threatening circumstances. Another beautiful thing John Lewis would say to younger generations as he grew older was, "make some noise and get in good trouble." Even so, he would also warn them never to hate, only to love, to do good, and, yes, to pray for those opposed to you, pray they will have a change of heart.

"One headline why believe it?"

So many thoughts, so many threads, so much going on. I am glad I returned to blogging because I can't take the pace of other social media platforms these daze. What is happening is nothing short of a media blitzkrieg. This is deliberate and done in the service of a far from transparent agenda.

Claims, counterclaims, counter-counterclaims, and so it goes into an infinite regress. "The common good" is just a phrase invoked on occasion. It seems to me that little is done in service of our common good.

Taken from Together for the Common Good, a U.K. Charity

What is the common good? The common good is that which seeks to enable and facilitate the flourishing of everyone. As such it is opposed to some socially Darwinistic society of winners and losers. The common good is the opposite of narrow and self-serving. It is the genuine ordo amoris as opposed to a narrow conception of this concept, which urges one to narrow rather than expand what might be called one's circle of concern. Especially if you're someone who's relatively well-off and comfortable, seeking the common good requires you look beyond your own interests and take account of the interests of those less well-off, especially those who are uncomfortable and struggling.

A few days ago, I listened to an episode of The Russell Moore Show featuring Robert Putnam ("Beyond Bowling Alone: Finding Community in an Isolated Age"). This is a vital conversation. Polarization has become the very nature of our politics. It is eating away at society and eroding our civilization.

Politics don't seem to any longer be about achieving ends that will enable flourishing. The means used to achieve desired ends, even when those ends aren't bad in and of themselves, seem to me aimed at creating further polarization, at winning and making losers. According to Putnam, whose body of work is worth enaging with, the answer is to connect with others and not primarily (or even secondarily) for political purposes. You may want to watch a recent film about Putnam, now showing on Netflix: Join or Die.

I love the old slogan of The Christopers: "It's better to light a candle than curse the darkness." While it is certainly better to light a candle, it is often easier and I would say sometimes necessary, to curse the darkness. But then, I don't want to promote the very thing I am arguing against. I was reminded this morning of a passage from the second chapter of Ephesians, the summary of which is verse 14:

For he [Jesus Christ] is our peace, he who made both one and broke down the dividing wall of enmity, through his flesh

I also want to point to something from Pope Francis' his recent letter to the U.S. Bishops, g that has been overlooked and that applies more broadly than to immigration. Found in section 7 of his letter, the Holy Father warns about the imposition of "the will of the strongest as the criterion of truth." Introducing the will of the strongest as the criterion of truth obliterates any authentic conception of the ordo amoris and, hence, the common good. It's hard to think of anything less Christian.

Please join me in praying for Pope Francis, who remains in hospital. He's battling pneumonia and a respiratory infection. When it comes to matters of the common good, to abiding by a proper conception of the ordo amoris, one rooted directly in the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ, I believe we need his witness right now.

While it certainly lacks subtlety, our Friday traditio, sticking with my distinctly '80s vibe during this early part of 2025, our traditio is Tears for Fears, "Everybody Wants to Rule the World."

Year C Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Jeremiah 17:5-8; Psalm 1:1-4.6; 1 Corinthians 15:12.16-20; Luke 6:17.20-26

When giving blessings, priests and deacons often begin by quoting Psalm 124: “Our help is in the name of the Lord.” To which the one(s) receiving the blessing, along with everyone else present, responds with, “Who made heaven and earth.”¹ More than a throwaway line, this is meant to acknowledge God’s goodness and power before conveying His blessing.

This is a gentler way of saying what the prophet Jeremiah, says in our first reading, when he insists that the person who puts his trust human beings is cursed while calling blessed the one who puts her trust in God. It is so easy to get caught up in human affairs that the Kingdom of God, which Jesus came to inaugurate and will return to fully establish, becomes something of an abstract idea instead of the concrete reality it should be for Christians. Our mission is to make the Kingdom present in the here and now even as we wait in joyful hope for Christ's return.

Our Gospel today, taking its name from the part of the passage that tells us Jesus “stood on a stretch of level ground,” is Luke’s Sermon on the Plain.² Quite obviously, this is a parallel passage to Saint Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount. Not only is the ground more level, what Jesus teaches in Luke is a bit more plain.

There is no way to get around the difficulty of either our reading from Jeremiah or our Gospel. God’s kingdom as taught by Jesus seems like something of a bizarro world to us, that is a backwards world, the world turned upside down. Blessedness, according to Jesus, has nothing to do with worldly success. Rather, worldly success often endangers blessedness.

Who were the false prophets to whom Jesus referred? These were the ones who were the opposite of Jeremiah and the true prophets. False prophets told the people and those in power what they wanted to hear, not what they needed to hear. “All is well,” they said, while insisting nothing needed to change, embracing the status quo.

Jeremiah in the Sistine Chapel, by Michelangelo. Yorck Project, 2002. Public domain Wikipedia Commons.

Prophets called Israel back to fidelity to its covenant with God. As you might imagine, this often did not go down well. Jeremiah, born into a priestly family, was called by God to his prophetic ministry at a young age. His prophetic career spanned five decades. Over the course of that time, he was repeatedly persecuted.

Jeremiah’s prophetic message centered around calling out Israel’s idolatry, social injustices, and moral decay. It was part and parcel of the message of every true prophet to stand up for the poor and powerless to the rich and powerful. Jeremiah learned from a young age to trust in God, not in man. He learned this through many trials.

Members of Jeremiah’s family tried to kill him because he prophesied against idolatrous shrines. When he complained to God, the Lord told him, "Don't worry, it will get worse." As a result of resistance to his message and persecution, more than once, Jeremiah threatened to quit being a prophet. He was also beaten, imprisoned, and put in the stockade. Finally, Jeremiah was exiled to Egypt against his own will, where he likely spent the rest of his life.

Jesus himself was arrested, subjected to a sham trial, stripped, beaten, and crucified. In other words, being the prophet par excellence, Jesus experienced the treatment of a prophet, of one who challenged human power not only in the name of God but as true God from true God. His message is consistent with that of the Old Testament prophets, both major and minor, who challenged the status quo and the misplaced priorities of religious and political leaders.

What is the takeaway for us from all this? As Christians, we serve the poor and dispossessed and are committed to helping end their destitution. We feed the hungry, which is one of the corporal works of mercy. We both suffer with (that is what the word compassion means) and comfort those who weep, those who are scared, suffering, distraught.

While, according to Jesus, being despised on account of God’s Kingdom is a cause for rejoicing, if we read a bit further on in the same chapter of Luke, several verses beyond our Gospel passage, Jesus nonetheless teaches: “love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.”³

We’ve heard a lot bit lately about the so-called ordo amoris, the order of love, which is set forth by Saint Augustine.⁴ In his recent letter to the U.S. bishops, rather than getting bogged down in a precise interpretation of an extra-biblical theological concept, Pope Francis insisted: “The true ordo amoris that must be promoted is that which we discover by meditating constantly on the parable of the ‘Good Samaritan,’ which is also found in Luke, “that is,” the Holy Father continues, “by meditating on the love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception.”⁵

In a world torn by strife and rife with human division, this remains a prophetic message. The Parable of the Good Samaritan is a masterclass in love of neighbor. The man beaten, robbed, and left for dead is presumably a devout Jew, though this is not made explicit. It is safe to say that Jews despised Samaritans more than Samaritans despised Jews. Yet, Jesus made a Samaritan, who he sets in opposition to very devout Jews, perhaps only concerned with their own ritual purity, who cross the road to avoid the man beaten bloody, the protagonist.

Jesus taught this parable in answer to the question, “Who is my neighbor?” He ends this teaching by saying, “Go and do likewise," saying in effect, “Go and do like this Samaritan.” I think it's hard for us to imagine how humbling, perhaps even humiliating, this would sound to Jesus’ interlocutors. Hence, meditating deeply on this parable is precisely what will guide you to a rightly ordered love of neighbor, which, in the end, according to Jesus, is what truly matters.

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1 Psalm 124:8.^↩
2 Luke 6:17.^↩
3 Luke 6:27-28.^↩
4 Saint Augustine. City of God, Book XV, 22.^↩
5 See Luke 10:25-37; Letter of the Holy Father Francis to the Bishops of the United States of America, sec. 6.^↩

Addendum on agape

My post for yesterday was longer than intended. In thinking a bit more about agape (i.e., self-giving, self-sacrificing, kenotic love- Christlike love), which for Christians is the supreme form of love, I offer a few more thoughts.

Probably the closest human analogy to divine agape is the love of a parent for her/his child. More specifically, the love of a mother for her child. In lamenting over the inhabitants of the Holy City, Jerusalem, in Matthew, Jesus says- "how many times I yearned to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her young under her wings" (Matthew 23:37). Or, God speaking to Israel through the prophet in Isaiah: "Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you" (Isaiah 49:15).

This brings me back to 1 John 4:7-16, the passage in which the phrase "God is love" appears twice. The conclusion of this is: "Beloved, if God so loved us, we also must love one another" (1 John 4:11). It is through the love of God given us in Christ, which is poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, that we become children of God (see Romans 5:5).

As God's children, we are sisters and brothers. For Christians, in light of our baptism, water is thicker than blood. As the Holy Father notes in section 7 of his letter to the U.S. bishops, it is certainly thicker than and even transcends other identifications and affiliations we may have.

Love that is agape is profuse, abundant, copious, extravagant, freely given. It is outwardly not inwardly directed. At the beginning of the Kenotic hymn found in the second chapter of Philippians, Saint Paul urges Christians - "Have among yourselves the same attitude that is also yours in Christ Jesus" (see Phil 2:5-11).

Hence, God's love is not something to be held onto merely for my own sake. Rather, as Jesus gave Himself freely, I am to give myself freely.

This post was originally longer. However, it was quite repetitive of the post for which is was written as an addendum. So, I stuck with brief a amplification of the meaning of agape.

Orders of love and the order of love

Saint Valentine's Day remains a big day in the United States. This, despite the fact that on the Roman Catholic liturgical calendar 14 February is the Memorial of Saints Cyril and Methodius. Especially on Valentine's Day love is reduced to romance and romance to sex. On social media leading up to today, I have seen a huge number of memes that issue warnings like- "In 9 months you can be fishing with your friends or home changing diapers. Choose wisely this Valentine's Day." While I appreciate, on the one hand, the connection between and procreation so often lacking today and even, on some level, the humor, this helps prove my assertion.

Even the perfectly good Greek word eros becomes the adjective "erotic" and erotic becomes synonymous with sex, despite having an original meaning that goes beyond mere physical pleasure. As I write, the title of a Walker Percy novel occurs to me: Love in the Ruins.

Additionally, Valentine's day, like all other such days, become an occasion to spend money. For this day, money is dropped on chocolates, flowers, jewelry, lavish meals, and so-called "intimate apparel." Ads frequently consist of some variation of "show how much you love her by buying..." This despite the fact that Saint Valentine was a martyr. These days don't seem to require a rationale. Most people know little and care even less about some remote figure named Valentine. The same goes for the person in whose honor the next like-minded holiday is named after: Saint Patrick.

Did you know Saint Valentine is also the patron saint for people afflicted with epilepsy, and of beekeepers?

Saint Valentine relic in the church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Rome, photo by Dnalor 01 - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0.

As long-time readers know, I feel much the same way about the secular Christmas season that run parallel with the liturgical season of Advent and seeks to do away with the actual season of Christmas. This has nothing to do with me being opposed to enjoyment, fun, or celebration. I am in favor of all three. It just think when the roots of what is celebrated are lost, the metaphorical tree slowly dies. This dying has a profound impact on culture and, through culture, on society.

In the Song of Songs we read "love is as strong as death" (8:6). In and through Jesus Christ, love conquered death. This conquest shows that love is not merely as strong as death but that love is stronger than death. For a Christian, like Saint Valentine, this is everything!

In John 15:15 Jesus calls his disciples (there are not apostles in John's Gospel) philous, that is, friends. With eros, philia is another Greek word for love. Philia is friendship. For Aristotle, friendship was love's highest form. Elsewhere in the Johannine corpus, however, we read twice in the space of eight verses that "God is love" (see 1 John 4:8-16). Agape is the Greek word for love in this passage.

Agape refers to self-giving, self-sacrificing, self-emptying (kenotic) love. For Christians, therefore, agape is the highest form of love. It is important to note that "God is love" is not logically reversible. The inverse property of multiplication, which holds that 5x4=20 and 4x5=20, doesn't apply. Love is not God. God is love.

Agape does not obliterate or conquer eros and/or philia. Rather, agape enfolds them and deepens them. Dare I say agape "sanctifies" the other forms of love? When considered in a Christian way, because it is a sacramental sign of Christ's love for His Bride, the Church (errant spouse she may sometimes be), Christian marriages should show this. After all, sacraments are visible and tangible signs of Christ's presence in and for the world, n'est ce pas?

Any saint's day or, as with today, any saints' day, is a celebration of the God who is love and of the friendship we have with God through Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit. Understanding God as a Trinity of divine persons implies God is love. What is the Holy Spirit if not the love between the Father and the Son personified? This, in a nutshell, is why I am an unabashed double processionist. To be baptized is to be immersed, plunged, into the life of God.

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Since love is today's theme, it is fitting to mention the recently revived ordo amoris. I have been more than a little bemused reading several criticisms of the Holy Father's letter to the U.S. bishops with regard to his treatment of the ordo amoris. The ordo amoris was brought into recent public discourse by the Vice President. He seems to have invoked is as a justification for a lot what the present administration is doing (or seeking to no longer do) with regard to immigration and foreign aid. In any case, these criticisms were basically how the Pontiff got Saint Augustine's theology wrong.

In his letter, I don't think Pope was attempting a precise theological exposition of Saint Augustine's ordo amoris. To me, he seems to attempt something of a corrective to it, at least to a lazy use of it in a political and self-justifying way. His corrective is an appeal directly to the teaching of Jesus Christ to whom, apart perhaps from the just love of self (which is maybe the cornerstone of the ordo amoris properly understood), as in "love your neighbor as yourself," such a construct would be foreign.

Specifically, the Holy Father points to the parable of the Good Samaritan, which was told in response to the question "Who is my neighbor?" He noted:

The true ordo amoris that must be promoted is that which we discover by meditating constantly on the parable of the "Good Samaritan" (cf. Lk 10:25-37), that is, by meditating on the love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception" (Letter of the Holy Father to the Bishops of the United States of America, sec. 6)

Without a doubt, what Jesus teaches is hard to live, which is why a lot of theological effort is put into explaining it away, reducing His teaching to nothing but our own status quo in which conversion is neither desired nor needed. It is of this essence of Christianity to overcome an us-vs-them view of things.

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Loving is difficult for many reasons, not least among which is that it requires understanding. It certainly requires understanding who is my neighbor. As the same passage from 1 John, cited above, notes, we can love because we have first been loved. Hence, I am to love in the same way Christ loves me. The love of Christ is an experience, the result of an encounter (see the first section of Pope Benedict XVI's first encylical letter, Deus caritas est, which letter also contains a wonderful exposition on eros, philia, and agape).

Our Friday traditio is HoJo asking "What Is Love?"

Memorial of Saint Scholastica, Virgin

Option to use readings for the Monday of the Fifth Week in Ordinary Time
Readings: Genesis 1:1-19; Psalm 104:1-2.5-6.10.12.24.35; Mark 6:53-56

Whenever I read the first creation account from Genesis 1, I am struck by two things. First, I am struck by the beauty of the poetry, which translates well into English. Given that, even as a Catholic, albeit a convert who grew up reading it exclusively, I think the King James Version brings this out best.

Secondly, I am struck by the evolutionary structure of this poem about creation. In it we hear of life evolving from its simplest to its most complex form, culminating in the creation of human beings, an event that happens beyond the end of our first reading.

The second creation account, which begins with the fourth verse of Genesis 2, is more primitive. According to “the Documentary Hypothesis” widely accepted by Old Testament scholars, the first five books of the Bible, that Christians call the Pentateuch, are a synthesis or, in more scholarly language, a redaction, of four distinct sources. This redaction, scholars posit, was likely carried out during reigns of David and Solomon around BC 1000.

The four sources are designated J, P, E, & D. These are the first letters of Jahwist, Priestly, Elohist, and Deuteronomic respectively. According to this hypothesis, the first creation narrative is P and the second is J. Given the stark contrast between the two, J would be the most opposite of P.

I think the poetry and precision of P account, the latter resulting in its evolutionary structure, give us some hint as to how faith and reason work together. Poetry represents beauty and evolutionary structure truth. Therefore, we have two of the three transcendentals: truth and beauty. Along with the good, the three transcendentals, while distinct, are inseparable and overlap in various ways.

In his seminal book, The Religious Sense, the Servant of God, Msgr. Luigi Giussani sought to show that

the nature of reason expresses itself in the ultimate need for truth, goodness, and beauty. These needs constitute the fabric of the religious sense, which is evident in every human being everywhere and in all times. So strong is this sense that it leads one to desire that the answer to life's mystery might reveal itself in some way (The Religious Sense, i)

Later in this book, Giussani notes that the human being is the point at which nature becomes conscious of itself (The Religious Sense, 25).

If human being is the point at which nature realizes itself, then Jesus Christ is the One in and through whom the human being realizes herself. As the Second Vatican Council’s Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World states it:

The truth is that only in the mystery of the incarnate Word does the mystery of man take on light. For Adam, the first man, was a figure of Him Who was to come, namely Christ the Lord. Christ, the final Adam, by the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love, fully reveals man to man himself and makes his supreme calling clear (sec. 22)

In our Gospel, as Jesus and His disciples cross the Sea of Galilee, tying up at Gennesaret, we read that the people there “immediately recognized [Jesus]” (Mark 6:54). Their recognition caused them to bring all their sick to be healed by Him. Being healed certainly makes you feel more yourself.

While I don’t want to dismiss or dispute the reality of Jesus’ physical healings as set forth in this passage from Mark, I think it’s important to have some insight into their meaning, especially because those healed would still die someday. The meaning, I believe, is found in Mark 2, in the pericope of Jesus healing the paralyzed man.

Seeing the long line of people outside the house in which Jesus was performing physical healings, the man’s friends went up on the roof of the house. They somehow got the paralyzed man, who was on a stretcher, on the roof with them. They then lowered him down through the roof until he was right in front of Jesus.

Seeing the man, Jesus’ first words to him were “Child, your sins are forgiven.” Without a doubt, this caused dismay not only among the murmuring scribes, but the man and his friends. There was no empirical sign that anything was different. Knowing their thoughts, Jesus rebuked them. He then asked, “Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, pick up your mat and walk’?” He continued, “’But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins on earth’— he said to the paralytic, ‘I say to you, rise, pick up your mat, and go home.’” At which point, the man does just that (See Mark 2:1-12).

Jesus Christ doesn’t only reveal man to himself, He seeks to renew and restore, to revitalize, you by making you truly yourself- who God made and redeems you to be. In so doing, He renews nature by His goodness, restoring its truth and beauty as set forth in Genesis.

Saint Scholastica, who we venerate today, was the sister of Saint Benedict. Like him, she was a monastic. Cenobitic, or community-based, monasticism, of which Benedict and Scholastica are held to be the founders, is an intense way to live a fully human life, a Christlike life. Like Christ’s life, monastic life is eschatological, meaning it points beyond itself to the full realization of God’s kingdom. You, too, need to seek to be like Christ and to make Him present wherever you are. For where He is, there is the Kingdom, which is nature perfected by grace.

Call and response

Readings: Isa 6:1-2a.3-8; Ps 138:1-5.7-8; 1 Cor 15:1-11; Luke 5:1-11

Taken together, our readings for this Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time in Year C of the Sunday cycle are about vocation, being called by God. Vocare is a Latin verb best translated as to call. Audire in Latin means "to hear" whereas obedire, from which derive the word "obedience," means to listen to, to heed, to hearken unto, if you want sound traditionally "biblical" in English.

To be realized, a call needs a response. You can hear something and not respond. At least in terms of Christian vocation, choosing not to respond is always a possibility. Forcing you to do His will goes against God's very nature. No vocation is inevitable.

In our first reading from Isaiah, the prophet's call is mystically and dramatically set forth. Note that the call is given in the form of two questions: "Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?" The response? "Here I am... send me!" In the NABRE translation, note the exclamation point at end of the response.

As this passage from Isaiah shows, prior to that, the one who responds is not worthy of the call. Hence the Christian cliche, "God doesn't call the qualified. He qualifies the called." As a wise mentor once said to me, "You're not worthy. Get over it."

In our reading from 1 Corinthians, in addition to containing what we can call the earliest known creed, Paul writes obliquely about his own call and response, including his own unworthiness to be called as an apostle. Now, keep in mind, an apostolos is one who is sent. Again, in Christian terms, it means one who is sent by Christ to bear witness to what s/he has seen and/or heard.

I write "s/he" because, for scriptural reasons, Saint Mary Magdalene is revered as "the apostle to the apostles." Paul felt he was unworthy of his call because, as we know from the Acts of the Apostles, he was a zealous persecutor of the Church. He even had blood on his hands.

Our Gospel is Jesus' call of his first followers. Apparently, Jesus had convinced Peter, James, and John to let him use their boat to teach the people. It seems equally as apparent that, according to the inspired author of Luke, these fishermen not only heard, but listened to Jesus' message. After teaching, Jesus told them to put out into the deep water, a command they obey. After protesting that they had fished all night and caught not a fish, these fisherman also acquiesced when he told them to lower their nets into the water.

Used under Creative Commons License courtesy of Gospel Images

After hauling in their massive "catch," Peter realized that this was no ordinary man, not even the extraordinary man to whose teaching they listened, but someone to be heeded, hearkened unto, followed. According to this inspired account, "they left everything and followed him." Peter follows the pattern of heeding the call despite his declared unworthiness.

While Catholics don't generally use these categories, when it comes to salvation, there are what might be characterized as three movements: redemption, justification, and sanctification. Simplistically, all are redeemed by Christ. All who accept the redemption he wrought are justified. Those who are justified are now being sanctified, made holy, becoming more and more like Christ. At root, this is the basic Christian vocation: to be made holy through cooperation with God's grace, using the ordinary means of grace to become more like Christ through the ordinary circumstances of your life.

My calling is to be a deacon. What does it mean for me to be a "better" deacon? Is it even possible? Because I am a deacon by ordination, I am a deacon by God's grace. So, this is God's doing, not mine. Hence, my call is a call to serve others.

Unsurprisingly, when I look at the late Cardinal Avery Dulles' Models of Church, I am most drawn to the servant model. Like justification theories and even Balthasar's eccelsiology, it isn't about picking the "best" model. The Church, the Body of Christ, is an irreducibly complex, multifaceted, reality. And so, each "model" has its place and the Church can't be reduced to one. This is also why ecclesia semper reformanda is perennial.

Elsewhere in Luke's Gospel, Jesus tells the Tweleve "I am among you as one who serves" (Luke 22:27). One who serves in Koine Greek is a diaknon. And so, translated literally, Jesus says, "I am among you as a deacon."

Diakonia is not only for deacons. The call to service is inherent being a Christian. As I have written before, just as there is a priesthood of the baptized, there is also a diaconate of the baptized. In his first encyclical letter Deus Caritas Est, Pope Benedict XVI insisted:

The Church's deepest nature is expressed in her three-fold responsibility: of proclaiming the word of God (kerygma-martyria), celebrating the sacraments (leitourgia), and exercising the ministry of charity (diakonia). These duties presuppose each other and are inseparable. For the Church, charity is not a kind of welfare activity which could equally well be left to others, but is a part of her nature, an indispensable expression of her very being (sec. 25a)

This call to be charitable, that is, the call to self-sacrificing service, is not subject to political changes or governmental whim. It is a call to serve the least among us, to care for those who are most vulnerable to oft-changing winds.

"'Cause in your dreams/The demon screams..."

It seems like Christmas and New Year's were eons ago. But celebrating the Presentation of the Lord in the Temple reminded me that last Sunday only marked 40 days since Christmas Day.

The past week has been calmer for me personally. I am grateful for that.

It's dawning on me now more that ever that I am really not very good at life. During my lectio yesterday morning, for which I am using Laurence Devillairs' The Philosophy Cure: Lessons on Living from the Philosophers, I contemplated matter of suffering.

I have to say, in my life most of the suffering I've endured is of my own making. And that in the big scheme of things, I have not suffered much. Nonetheless, whatever form it takes, suffering is, well, suffering. It's an unavoidable part of being human.

It has also become very clear that I have a hard time being light-hearted and just letting myself be free. It's as if I need a burden to carry, a worry to tarry. While I regret the self-absorption that depressive suffering sucks me into, I don't regret any compassion I've ever shown to anyone. Helping other people carry their burdens is something of a vocation for me. Though, these days, ministry doesn't afford much by way of this.

Something Saint Paul wrote in his Second Letter to the Corinthians has slowly become my favorite scripture passage:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God (1 Cor. 1:3-4, NASB)

It just so happens that this particular passage serves as the scriptural reading for Sunday, Evening Prayer II, Week I of the Psalter.

Here's what I wrote in response what I read yesterday- bear in mind these are just notes: "Suffering: a good topic for martyr's memorial [yesterday was the Memorial of St. Paul Miki & Companions, Martyrs]. Descartes philosophy was not disembodied. His whole philosophy is usually reduced to one Meditation [really, Part 1 of Meditation II in Meditations of First Philosophy]. Optimism is not hope. Hope is the cross. Optimism is denial or avoidance of the cross. God is not cruel. Hesed as lovingkindness."

Descartes' Meditation VI in his best know work, as DeVillairs reminded me, "contains another foundational experience of the self - one that is mediated by suffering." This resonates with me. I never feel more alone than when I am suffering. When suffering, I never feel more by myself and, hence, never feel more myself. Empathy helps me. I find some consolation in someone who was been through something akin to what I am experiencing sharing their own ordeal with me. Sympathy can be nice, too, as long as it doesn't become prescriptive and pietistic.

Here's what I wrote as a kind of resolution for the day yesterday: "Enjoy today- be lighthearted." Easy, right?

In reality, my life is good and I shouldn't complain, but sometimes I do. Sometimes I often complain. In his autobiography, G.K. Chesterton wrote: "I hope it is not pompous to call the chief idea of my life; I will not say the doctrine I have always taught, but the doctrine I should always have liked to teach. That is the idea of taking things with gratitude, and not taking things for granted."

So, this is not merely put on a happy face and pretend all is always well. How I feel isn't always up to me and it is, at least in part, constitutive of my person. Looking at the world through gray-tinted glases much of the time, I see a lot of beauty, a lot of grace in the grit of life. Sunflowers appearing in unexpected places is for me a miracle.

I also tend to take a lot for granted. This is especially true when it comes to people. There are people to whom I need pay far less heed and those who I need cherish and heed much more. As I spent time, years ago now, with my Dad as he lay dying on a gray, cold January day, he told me how he realized that there wasn't much in life that truly matters. It is, therefore, those things do matter that should be my focus.

Lately I have been on a Thompson Twins jag. Because it seems somewhat in tune with what I've written, "King For One Day" is our traditio for this first Friday of February:

I've heard it said
Or maybe read
Only money makes
The world go round

But all the gold
Won't heal your soul
If your world should
Tumble to the ground

Memorial of Saint Blaise

Readings: Romans 5:1-5; Psalm 117:1-2; Mark 16-15-20

Today we celebrate the Memorial of Saint Blaise. What stands out most about today is the blessing of throats. At least in the northern hemisphere, January and February are times when respiratory illnesses abound. This year is no exception.

Why are throats blessed on Saint Blaise’s day? Because the first known written reference to this fourth century Armenian bishop and martyr, which dates from the start of the sixth century, mentions his aid being sought for objects stuck in the throat. Another early mention of this bishop and martyr can be found in the chronicles of Marco Polo, which mentions that Blaise’s martyrdom. Based on the available evidence, it seems that during his lifetime, Saint Blaise was known as a healer.

Among Roman Catholics, it is customary to use candles blessed the previous day, which is Candlemas, to bless the throats of the faithful, on Saint Blaise’s Day. In doing so, we implore God for healing for those afflicted and for good health for those who are not.

Oddly, Saint Blaise was a very popular saint in Europe during the Middle Ages. This is likely due to the circulation of the Acts of Saint Blaise, written 400 years after his death. While there are likely kernels of truth concerning his life, much of it is legendary in nature.

Taking a cue from our reading from Romans, saints show us what it means to hope. Being a theological virtue, hope is a gift from God. If Saint Paul is to be believed, affliction is what brings hope into bold relief. Of course, affliction can also be the occasion of despair. It is important, therefore, not conflate hope and optimism. When you reach the end of optimism, either hope or despair are what remain.

As the apostle, writing from his own experience, insists: “affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope.” In the end, it is only hope that doesn’t disappoint. Learning to trust God is difficult because it requires you to entrust yourself entirely to Him come what may. This lesson is as old as the Book of Job, which is perhaps the earliest text found in the Bible. This is why the intercession of the martyrs is so efficacious.

Among the signs that the Lord says “will accompany those who believe,” is laying “hands on the sick,” so that “they will recover.” Of course, in addition to prayers and blessings, the Lord has given His Church the sacrament of anointing of the sick, which, along with penance, is a sacrament of healing.

Both these sacraments, as Jesus’ encounter with the lame man, whose friends lowered him down through roof, shows, the cure of souls takes precedence over the cure of our bodies. He commands the lame man to stand and walk only to show that He has the power to forgive sins (Mark 2:1-12).

This is shown, too, in the sacramental Rite of Anointing of the Sick when priest says, as he anoints the hands of the one receiving the sacrament: “May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up.” In terms of eternal life, because our bodies and souls form a unity, so do forgiveness of sin and bodily healing. Resurrection is the ultimate healing.

Saint Blaise, pray for us.

"Candlemas (A Song)" by John Henry Newman

Today, after the late Mass, my wife and I needed to do some grocery shopping. While we were at the store making our way down the isle, me pushing the cart, she said to me- "When we get back into the car, I am going to read to you." My response was something like, "Uh, okay."

After finishing our shopping and loading the groceries into the back of the vehicle, we got in and started to drive. As I turned out of the parking lot, she started: "'Candlemas,' by John Henry Newman..." It is poem written by the person most responsible for my conversion. I must admit that apart from "Lead Kindly Light" (a poem I have turned to often in troubled times) and "The Dream of Gerontius," I am not very familiar with Newman's poems. "Candlemas" was new to me.

As I listened, having just celebrated Candlemas, complete with the blessing and lighting of candles and a procession into the Church, the words of this poem landed very tenderly on my heart.

Without too much more ado, I want to share Cardinal Newman's poem to bring today's lovely Feast to a close:

Candlemas (A Song)

The Angel-lights of Christmas morn,
      Which shot across the sky,
Away they pass at Candlemas,
      They sparkle and they die.

Comfort of earth is brief at best,
      Although it be divine;
Like funeral lights for Christmas gone,
      Old Simeon’s tapers shine.

Simeon in the Temple, Rembrandt, 1669

And then for eight long weeks and more,
      We wait in twilight grey,
Till the high candle sheds a beam
      On Holy Saturday.

We wait along the penance-tide
      Of solemn fast and prayer;
While song is hush’d, and lights grow dim
      In the sin-laden air.

And while the sword in Mary’s soul
      Is driven home, we hide
In our own hearts, and count the wounds
      Of passion and of pride.

And still, though Candlemas be spent
      And Alleluias o’er,
Mary is music in our need,
      And Jesus light in store. (The Oratory 1849)

Candlemas: Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

Readings: Malachi 3:1-4; Psalm 24:7-10; Hebrews 2:14-18; Luke 2:22-20

For those of a more traditional mindset, 2 February marks the end of Christmas. The Feast of the Presentation of the Lord is such an important Feast that it takes precedence over what would otherwise be the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time. It's a special treat to celebrate this great feast on a Sunday.

Candlemas is another traditional term used to describe today's Feast. On this day, it is a traditional practice for the faithful to bring candles to Mass in order to have them blessed. Rather than stored, these blessed candles are to be used to bring light and warmth to our homes.

Christmas is the celebration of Jesus Christ as the Light of the world, that Light who enlightens everyone, the Light who shines in and is not overcome by the darkness, as the Gospel for Christmas, Mass During the Day, tells us (see John 1:5.9). Lighting candles blessed on Candlemas reminds us of this, reassures us about this, makes us joyful because our hope is Jesus Christ.

Mary and Joseph don't merely offer a couple of birds, which was the offering of the poor. Unbeknownst to anyone but Simeon and Anna, they offer the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. They offer the one who will do away with the need for Temple sacrifices. Considering the Lord in the Temple, let's not forget the tabernacle candle that perpetually burns in each Church, indicating the Lord's presence. The Lord is present there under the humble sign of bread, until He returns.

In this child both Anna and Simeon recognized not only their hope, not only the hope of Israel, but as Simeon's prayer, known by its Latin title, the Nunc Dimittis (the first two words), the hope of the world: "a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel" (Luke 2:32). This canticle is prayed each day as part of Night Prayer.

Jesus' Presentation in the Temple is the fourth Joyful Mystery of Our Lady's Rosary. Obedience is the fruit of this mystery.

This hope, as Simeon also intimated to Mary, would be realized through suffering. Such is often the case with true hope. This why hope should not be mistaken for optimism. Let's be honest, suffering makes obedience hard and beckons one to despair.

Quite often, when it comes to obedience, we want our reward. Thinking something like, "I've been good. God owes me." This is particularly true when it comes to matters with which you might struggle. Another thing to bear in mind, however, is that goodness is its own reward. Not to mention, to speak in worldly terms, it is quite often the case that no good deed goes unpunished.

We know that at the beginning of His passion Jesus asked the Father to spare Him this agony if it was in any way possible (see Luke 22:42). It is to this that our reading from the Letter to the Hebrews points. Therefore, as the inspired author states: "Because he himself was tested through what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested" (Hebrews 2:18). Despite His own expressed desire, Jesus was obedient to the will of the Father.

Who or what else might the pleasing sacrifice of Judah and Jerusalem, mentioned by Malachi, be other than Jesus, the Lord?

Jesus comes to His Temple as the infant child of a poor Galilean couple. As the introduction to this Feast found in the Roman Missal puts it:

Outwardly [Jesus] was fulfilling the Law,
but in reality he was coming to meet his believing people

At this point, in addition to (possibly) Mary and Joseph, His believing people are Anna and Simeon. The latter of whom was led to the Temple by the Spirit to see Him, the Christ, the Mashiach, the Messiah before dying. The former, a widow of many years, who spent her days in the Temple precincts praying, waiting, and hoping.

Seeing and recognizing the Lord is the fruit of obedience for Anna and Simeon. It is also the fruit of our obedience. As we ask in a petition from the Intercessions for Evening Prayer I of today's Feast: "lead all people to to recognize that you still come to them."

May you recognize the Lord as He presents Himself to you, May you see the Light in the darkness.

A take on immigration

Presently and for the past several years, immigration is a very concerning issue for many people in the United States. Sadly, taking our cue from politicians, political parties, ideologues, and even the news media, we turn a complex, multi-faceted issue into a grossly oversimplified single issue. We then either lionize of villify immigrants, which dehumanizes them.

For me, it is axiomatic that every immigrant, no matter from whence s/he hails, or how s/he came to be here, or their reason for coming, is a human being. As such, s/he is made in the image of God. Hence, every human being should be treated with dignity and respect at all times. In 2022, the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops issued Catholic Elements of Immigration Reform. It is worth reading. I hope what I write below is in conformity with these elements.

It seems to me immigration has five distinct, not separate, but distinct facets:

First is the border. I'll be honest, I don't have a big problem with securing the southern border. Seeking to make the border very hard, if not impossible, to cross strikes me as a responsibility of a government faced with mass immigration. Also, once word gets out that crossing the border is a very risky proposition and that you'll likely be caught, detained, and returned to your country of origin, fewer people will put themselves at the mercy of coyotes and other criminal predators in an effort to come to the U.S.

We tend to underestimate the human cost of immigration prior to people reaching our southern border. It is important to treat detained persons with dignity and respect. It is paramount to keep families together. Parents, for the most part, will do a better job than anyone else keeping their children safe.

Recently, some U.S. cities and towns have been stretched to the breaking point trying to accommodate large numbers of immigrants. While this predictably became farcical during last year's presidential election, there are instances that show the truth of this: Denver, Colorado and, yes, Springfield, Ohio. No, I don't think domestic pets were being eaten with reckless abandon in the latter city. But the impact of an exceedingly large number of immigrants there created crisis conditions.

Secondly, what are the countries people are seeking to leave doing to improve conditions and opportunities for their people? After the stand-off and threatened trade war between Colombia (not "Columbia," as the White Press Office wrote it- see "White House Press Release Misspells Colombia, Sparks Row"), the Colombian president, Gustavo Petro, is now asking Colombians to leave the U.S., come home, and and "build social wealth in Colombia" (see "Colombia's president calls for migrants to leave jobs in the US and return home").

In a similar vein, during his 2016 visit to Mexico, Pope Francis, urged Mexican leaders to reform their country so as to create conditions for people to flourish. Speaking after a private meeting with Mexico's then-president, Enrique Pena Nieto, the Holy Father said:

Experience teaches us that each time we seek the path of privileges or benefits for a few to the detriment of the good of all, sooner or later the life of society becomes a fertile soil for corruption, drug trade, exclusion of different cultures, violence and also human trafficking, kidnapping and death, bringing suffering and slowing down development (see "Pope gives tough love to Mexico’s political, church elite")

The U.S. needs to play a role helping to foster better conditions in the countries people are leaving in droves. Why? Because historically we have contributed to the current political and economic conditions.

Third, there are genuine refugees. These are people who have legally applied for and been granted asylum in the United States. Oddly, it is caring for these people with the help of government grants, that Vice President Vance publicly went after Catholic bishops. Suffice it to say, government grants don't cover the entire cost of refugee services that Catholic community services across the nation provide. To wit: dioceses are not making "bank" off these efforts. Rather, these organizations are paying the difference between the cost of these services and the government grants. Also, Catholic entities are very efficient in doing this. Instead of criticism, praise is in order.

Fourth, I have no problem with ICE rounding up those who are known criminals either or both in their home country and here. Right now, deportation efforts are focused on specific people who are known criminals. Fellow immigrants are the main victims of these individuals and gangs. This is the crux of the effort right now. Throughout the Biden Administration, the U.S. was daily deporting people. This is not to ignore other Biden immigration policies that led to a massive backlash during last year's presidential election. During President Obama's time in office, deportations reached a peak (see "Obama is deporting more immigrants than any president in history: explained").

Finally, the issue I find most vexing and even frightening, as do many people, is the status of people who are already here and who have been here for years, even decades. These are people who work hard seeking to build a life for themselves and their families. Some of their children are citizens. They serve their communities, pay their taxes, and, apart from not having legal status, are law abiding. It seems to me that some allowance, some distinction, some accommodation should be made for these folks.

In a previous attempt at immigration reform during the George W. Bush administation, an idea to levy a fine on undocumented people who have been here for a long time was floated, along with then creating a path to legal status and perhaps, eventually, citizenship (see "Is Bush's plan for illegal immigrants 'practical,' or amnesty?"). This died because certain members of Congress were opposed to anything remotely smacking of what they called "amnesty." Of course, the path to citizenship for people who are here legally needs to be expedited. More resources are needed besides beefing up immigration enforcement.

The very inconsistent, uneven, and highly unpredictable nature of immigration enforcement helps no one and does not the serve the nation well. I think even the current administration, with its perceived mandate to get a grip on immigration, at some point will have to realize the vital role many immigrants play in the U.S. economy. The flip side of this recognition is then dealing with conditions that allow immigrants to be badly exploited.

To discerning means choosing

Today is the last day of January 2025. While January started soft and quietly for me, it quickly turned into a time of intense discernment. This was precipitated by two quite unexpected proposals.

These proposals forced me not just to discern about them or between them, as they were mutually exclusive, but to step back and take a broader view of my life, where I am and where I am going, not to mention where I feel I should go and where I want to go over the next few years. While painful and time consuming, this was a good thing. It was painful because, as is the case with discernment, I had to make some decisions. This was inescapable because choosing not to decide would still have been to make a choice.

These decisions are important because as I prepare to turn 60 this year, whatever I decided hugely impacts the rest of my life, particularly in terms of finanical security. Needless to say, I did a lot of back-and-forth, discussed various possibilities, pros and cons, wants and needs with my wife. I also consulted with a few other trusted people.

As with any true discernment, all of this was about deciding between good things. At root, the issue with discernment is any choice you make for a good thing contains a decision to forego other good things. Once decided, there is always that pesky risk of wondering What if? Frankly, I am sure I will wonder that at times. Such is life.

It's good that such decisions are not only about what I want or how choices might impact me. Being married, having children, and supporting my wife in being responsible for an elderly parent, must factor in. Having to think about and give loving consideration to others, at least for me, grounds life. As does being a member of the clergy.

Being a deacon, which makes me a man of the Church, brings forth the consideration of how best to serve Christ. Best serving Christ means best serving His Church. Nonetheless, another aspect of this discernment that came to the fore is a theological one. Even more specifically, an ecclesiological one. It is about distinguishing between the Church as the mystical Body (or, to go De Lubacian- the true Body) of Christ and the institutional Church.

Now, it's impossible to make a hard-and-fast distinction that results in a complete separation of the sacramental from the mundane, the earthly from the heavenly, the divine and the human (oftentimes all too human). I think there has to be some overlap, even if at times it is very thin even to the point of not being very perceptible. Isn't this, after all, the nature of sacraments? And isn't the Church "the universal sacrament of salvation"? (Lumen Gentium, sec. 48)

What is the Eucharist if not transsubstantiated bread and wine that appears to the casual observer no different after consecration than before? And so, while one has to exercise due caution, making that ecclesiological distinction provided me with a key to unlocking what I should do. It wasn't serving the Church but how best to serve while taking my family, my life, and my circumstances into consideration.

Looking out for my future, which is also my wife's future, as well as impacting our children, is very important. Like most people, while I don't ever envision a time when I will do nothing, I do look forward to the day when I no longer have to "go to work" as a matter of necessity. At the end of the day, there was only one path that led to that destination. It will take me a few more years to get there.

One thing was for certain: I couldn't stand at the four-pronged fork in the road for very long. As the title of that old Gospel song put it: "You Got to Move." Larry Howard, Glenn Kaiser, and Darrell Mansfield sing our traditio for this final Friday of January 2025:

Monday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Hebrews 9:15.24-28; Psalm 98:1-6; Mark 3:22-20

The best starting point for Christian faith is not the Most Holy Trinity. Since He is the Alpha and the Omega, Christian faith begins and ends with Jesus Christ. After, all it is Jesus who reveals God as Father and who speaks explicitly about the Holy Spirit and who sends the Spirit.

Jesus Christ is the fullness of God’s revelation. Everything is revealed in and through Him. Taking a cue from our first reading from the Letter to the Hebrews, by His death and resurrection, Jesus ushered in not only a new, but an everlasting covenant. It’s important to note that a new covenant is foretold by the prophets. It is needed because of Israel’s inability to keep the first covenant. Jesus fulfilled the covenant on our behalf.

By His death on the cross, Jesus did away with the need for the whole sacrificial system of the Temple. This means a Temple is no longer needed or, more accurately, that He is now the temple. Through Him, we, too, become temples of the Holy Spirit, places of God’s presence.

There is a lot of weird controversy surrounding the exact nature of the sin against the Holy Spirit. Because all sin is against God and the Holy Spirit, along with the Father and the Son, is God, all sins are sins against the Holy Spirit. What Saint Paul wrote in his First Letter to the Corinthians provides us with a wonderful synthesis of our two readings for today:

Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies (1 Corinthians 6:19-20)

Of course, all sins are not blasphemies. Nonetheless, our sinfulness should make us humble and contrite, not proud or presumptive. As Saint Paul reminds the saints at Corinth, “you were bought at a price.” You must never forget this.

Keep sin at bay by avoiding what used to be called the “narrow occasions” of sin. Desire holiness and foster it through the practice of spiritual discipline, especially prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Examine your conscience daily. Go to confession regularly. The grace of this sacrament, coupled with frequent reception of Holy Communion, and selflessly serving others, helps stave off the devil.

Also, seek the intercession of our Blessed Mother by praying her Rosary and the Memorare. Make heavenly friends with specific saints and implore them for their prayers and intercession. This is how you live in the light of the new and everlasting covenant.

Word of God- Sunday

Readings: Neh 8:2-4a.5-6.8-10; Ps 19:8-10.15; 1 Cor 12:12-30; Luke 1:1-4; 4:14-21

Given the length of today's readings, especially if the long form of the reading from 1 Corinthians was used in your parish, you received a small taste of what the Israelites experienced listening for a half-day while the priest Ezra read out the law. And chances are, the homily you heard today was longer than the one Jesus gave in the synagogue at Nazareth in our Gospel.

The passage from Isaiah on which Jesus comments is really, like this Gospel reading, a mashup of two passages: Isaiah 61:1-2 and Isaiah 58:6. In his commentary on what He read from Isaiah, Jesus tells those gathered in his hometown synagogue that today what they just heard is fullfilled in their hearing. You see, Jesus is the Word of God incarnate.

Jesus is the Torah, Nevi'im, and the Ketuvim personified. In English words, He is the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings in person. While certainly inspired words, what we have in Sacred Scripture we might call the words of God or the word of God in contrast to the Word of God.

On this word of God Sunday, it bears reminding ourselves that, as Christians, we are not really Ahl al-Kitab (i.e., "people of the Book"). We are the people of the Resurrected and Risen Lord, who is Himself the Word of God.

I think it's hard for us to understand what a provocation Jesus' words were to those who heard him in this pericope of Luke's. Keep in mind, Nazareth was likely a small village of no more than several hundred people. Everyone not only knew everyone, but most of the Nazarenes were likely related to each other in some way. Jesus was of one them.

After going off and gaining some measure of fame teaching in synagogues in other Galilean towns and villages, Jesus came back home to Nazareth. On the sabbath, He went to worship in what Luke clearly indicates was likely the synagogue of His youth. In Catholic terms, He returned to the parish in which he grew up, where everyone knew Him. After reading passage(s) from Isaiah about the Messiah, He sat down, which was the posture for teaching, and told them with virtually no gloss, "I am the Messiah."

Turning back to Nehemiah, the People of God were so eager to hear the word of God that "they knelt down and bowed before the LORD, their faces to the ground" as their posture for listening. Talk about reverence! According to Luke, how do the worshippers in the Nazareth synagogue respond to Jesus revealing Himself to them as their long awaited Mesisah?

After asking "Isn't this Joseph's son?", they dispute His claim. Far from backing down, Jesus basically tells them that it comes as no surprise that they don't believe Him because their fathers didn't believe the prophets but some gentiles did and God blessed them for it. This really pissed them off. So much so that they tried to kill Him by running Him off a cliff (see Luke 4:22-30).

The contrast between the two responses couldn't be more stark. Believing in Christ is a scandal. In 1 Corinthians 1:23, Saint Paul says that "Christ crucified" is "a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles." "Stumbling block" is a translation of the Greek word skandalon, which is the origin of the word "scandal" in English.

Just as He is really present in the consecrated bread and wine, the Lord is really present in the proclamation of the inspired of words of Sacred Scripture in the assembly (see Sacrosanctum Concilium, sec. 7). In fact, the liturgy is the premiere place for the proclamation of and commentary on the scriptures. This is why preaching is so vitally important! Through the inspired words of God, the Word of God is made present.

As our Gospel clearly shows, Jesus didn't come merely to comfort. He came to provoke. Faith in Christ, if it is really faith, provokes everyone who believes in Him. Through the Holy Spirit, which is always at work through the scriptures, each is provoked in the way s/he needs to be, at least the ones who listen with open ears and hearts.

Saying "Jesus is Lord," at least when said by the Holy Spirit, is a bold declaration, a provocation. It is a provocation both to the one who makes this proclamation as well as those to whom it is proclaimed.

What hearing the Word of God means, in the words of our Blessed Mother found in our Gospel for last Sunday, which came from John, is "Do whatever He tells you" (John 2:5).

Ordination Anniversary

Today was the first time this year that I was tempted to deviate from my plan. As it turns out, my saving grace in this regard, is sacramental grace. Specifically, the sacramental grace of ordination. Today, the Memorial of Saint Francis de Sales, marks the twenty-first anniversary of my ordination as deacon.

Diocese of Salt Lake City, Deacon Class of 2004

Along with 23 other men, then-Bishop George H. Niederauer of Salt Lake City (later archbishop of San Francisco, which was then my diocese's Metropolitan See until 2023), by the laying on of hands, conferred on me the sacrament of orders by ordaining me a deacon. Along with being married, the birth of my children, and my own baptism (/confirmation/communion- 14 April 1990), this was a major event in my life. From that day forward, I have striven to be a man of service, albeit a very imperfect one. Nothing brings my flaws to the fore like pastoral ministry.

For the first eleven-and-a-half years of my diaconate, I served at The Cathedral of the Madeleine. For the past 9.5 years, I have served at Saint Olaf parish, located in the town where I live. Serving as a deacon is both my privilege and my pleasure.

Over the ensuing twenty-one years, nine members of my class have died. To the surviving members: Ad multos anos! I'm currently in a season of discernment. I don't mind saying that I find it rather uncomfortable but feel like I should find it exciting. In your kindness, say a prayer for me.

Our traditio is Tom Jones singing "Burning Hell" off his 2010 album Praise and Blame:

"Deacon Jones please pray for me!"

Year C Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Isaiah 62:1-5; Psalm 96:1-3.7-10; 1 Corinthians 12:4-11; John 2:1-11

As we enter this season of Ordinary Time, running from last Monday until Ash Wednesday, it bears noting that, liturgically, Ordinary Time is not contrasted with “Extraordinary Time,” like Advent, Christmas, Lent, or Easter. Rather, it refers to ordinal time, defined as a numbered series. What are serially numbered during Ordinary Time are Sundays. Since every Sunday is “a little Easter,” Christ’s resurrection is the axis around which the liturgical year and Christian life revolves. The Lord's resurrection is the Church's cornerstone and touchstone.

Even though the Church is in Year C of her three-year Sunday lectionary, which means that we focus on the Gospel According to Saint Luke, our Gospel for today is taken from Saint John. Hearing the Miracle at the Wedding Feast of Cana is deliberately congruent with the previous two Sundays, both which are part of Christmas: Epiphany and Baptism of the Lord. Prior to the liturgical reforms that occurred after the Second Vatican Council, the Church observed three Epiphanies: the visit of Magi, the Lord’s Baptism by John in the river Jordan, and His miracle at wedding feast of Cana.

It is only in Year C that the Sunday lectionary keeps the Tradition of the Three Epiphanies. While the Gospels for the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time for Years A and B, during which we focus on the Gospels of Matthew and Mark respectively, also come from John, they tell of when John the Baptist identifies Jesus as “the Lamb of God” and baptizes Him, and when His first disciples follow Him.¹

If you recall, an epiphany is a sudden realization, even a revelation. It might also be described as a moment of heightened perception when you seem to see things in their true light, one might say, see things as they really are. Epiphanies yield insights. When it comes to Jesus, the Epiphany is that by the power of the Holy Spirit, you recognize Him as Lord, as the verse that immediately precedes our passage from 1 Corinthians today asserts.²

And so, just as we ease into Ordinary Time after Easter with our observances of Trinity Sunday and Corpus Christi, we ease into Ordinary Time after Christmas by pondering the Lord’s third Epiphany. Understanding the liturgical year is critically important not only to understanding but to living our Christian faith, the heart of which is the Paschal Mystery. Observing the liturgical year at Church, at home, and in our lives is how we participate in this great Mystery, which is the mystery of creation and redemption.

In the context of Saint John’s Gospel, which is sometimes called “the Gospel of Signs,” Jesus’ miracle at the wedding feast of Cana is the first of seven signs. Another of these signs we will hear during this year is the sixth sign: the Lord’s healing of the man born blind.³ It is the reading for the Mass during which the Second Scrutiny of the Elect takes place.

Confirmation for the assertion that John’s Gospel is the Gospel of signs can be found within this Gospel:

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of [his] disciples that are not written in this book. But these [the seven signs] are written that you may [come to] believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through this belief you may have life in his name⁴

Of course, each of these signs are an Epiphany, a revelation meant to bring you to the realization that “Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God,” who came to give you life eternal.

As it pertains to the miracle at the wedding feast of Cana, which is only found in Saint John’s Gospel, if one were to look at all four Gospels sequentially, Matthew-John, this episode marks the final time that the Blessed Virgin says anything. What she says, she says to the servers: “Do whatever he tells you.”⁵ Mary, the Mother of God, and our Mother by the grace of God, directs us to Jesus, not to herself.

Of course, the miracle at the wedding feast of Cana is the second of the Luminous Mysteries of the Holy Rosary. It’s fruit? To Jesus through Mary. As Saint Teresa of Calcutta once insisted: No Mary, no Jesus. We might say, know Mary- k-n-o-w-, know Jesus. Since we’re extending Christmas through Lectionary, let’s not forget, even reaching back into Advent, the great Marian observances: Immaculate Conception, Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, and Mary, the Mother of God, which solemnity ushers in the new calendar year. If you're not already doing so, pray the Rosary! Pray it daily if you can.

This year, we have an extra treat. The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, traditionally called Candlemas, which the Church observes on 2 February, and was formerly the observance that marked the end of Christmas, falls on Sunday this year. What a great grace! Let’s allow these sacred observances not only inform us but shape and form us, to bring us to the Spirit-led acknowledgement that Jesus is Lord. This reality needs to then lead us to live lives that further reveal this reality, a life that is itself an Epiphany.

Like the Blessed Virgin Mary, who is our model of discipleship, and through her intercession, let’s lead others to believe in the Redeemer by living like people who are redeemed, like people of the Resurrection.

---

1 See John 1:29-34 and John 1:35-39.^↩
2 1 Corinthians 12:3.^↩
3 See John 9:1-41.^↩
4 John 20:30-31.^↩
5 John 2:5.^↩

Cultivating a just love of self

Here we are. The third Friday of 2025 already! I don't know about you, but this year has already had some unexpected twists and turns and that have made things a little tumultuous. None of these are bad things, thanks be to God. It's not bad for me to let myself be pressed a bit. I may have a problem of feeling like I need to be pressed all the time.

It's disconcerting for me after the quiet of the week between Christmas Day and New Year's Day to "get back to it." I've found that adjustment this year even more difficult than usual. I need to get my spiritual life back on track. With the exception of Holy Hour, it's not that I haven't been maintaining my spiritual discipline. Rather, it's the more difficult issue of practicing them in too perfunctory a manner.

A photo I snapped this morning

A bright spot in this New Year is reading Oliver Burkeman's Meditations for Mortals. The best way I can describe this book is that it is a master course in knowing and not so much overcoming yourself but recognizing and working within your limits and doing a better job setting limits. The books consists of meditations over 28 days. Yesterday's meditation, which is Day 16, set forth the "reverse golden rule."

Burkeman takes the concept of the "reverse golden rule" from philosopher Iddo Landau and describes it thus:

not treating yourself in punishing and poisonous ways in which you'd never dream of treating someone else

Now, everyone is not likely prone to this. I don't mind admitting that I am. At times, I am utterly and unrelentingly terrible to myself.

Reading and pondering Burkeman's chapter on the "reverse golden rule" led me quickly not only to think about the golden rule- Do to others whatever you would like them to do to you (Matthew 7:12)- but also the second of Jesus's Two Great Commandments to love your neighbor as you love yourself (Matthew 22:37). The back end of both of these injunctions is that a just love of self is the basis for how you treat others.

Not an earth-shattering insight, I know. But there's knowing something and then there's being struck by what it is you know in a way that shows you, once again, that knowing, as important as that is, isn't everything and, when it comes to life, to living, is insufficient of itself. To put it in an utterly eggheaded way, Burkeman's insight via Landau provided me with a necessary link between knowledge and praxis, between knowing and doing.

Several years ago, I man I had worked with over the better part of a year to return to the practice of the faith to be confirmed and with whom I had developed a warm friendship, committed suicide. Casey was an extraordinarily successful person. He was truly loved by all: smart, hard-working, kind, and generous to all. I was asked to participate in his quite elaborate memorial service. I did so by incorporating elements of the Roman Catholic funeral vigil,which the large crowd seemed to not just to tolerate but appreciate. After all, it was a wake. At each place setting the tables laid out for the banquet was a banner that read Be gentle with yourself & with others. To this day, I keep it in my den (see photo above).

Today's traditio was a little difficult as I want to keep it congruent with what I write. So, being kind to myself, I am going with U2's "A Sort of Homecoming." It is off their Unforgettable Fire album, which remains my favorite of their many albums. Actually, my least favorite song off that album is the one that was most popular and that would be fitting for Monday's holiday:

Let's not forget that Fridays remain days of penance. When understood and practiced properly, penance, while it certainly consists of taking stock of your life and examining your conscience, is not then kicking the shit out of yourself. For a Christian far from it. Rather, it is recognizing and desiring the healing you need and turning to the One who died and rose to heal you: Jesus Christ. As a Balthasarian in this regard, I don't mind asserting that He even went to hell for you. It bears recalling that along with anointing, penance is a sacrament of healing.

Engaging in penitential acts is important and, I believe, necessary. Fasting, abstinence, vigils, cold showers, etc. are good things when done in the right spirit. Yes, I stand ready to still defend Pope Saint John Paul II for his practice of administering "the discipline" to himself, often on the eve of ordaining new bishops. Is this a practice for everyone? Emphatically, NO! Is it a practice for most people, again, NO! I have written a lot on penitential practices over the years of this blog. With Lent coming, I will revisit this soon without a doubt. I will address what it means to engage in penitential acts in the right spirit.

Opening myself up to grace is really the work this requires, ex opere operato notwithstanding:

And you hunger for the time
Time to heal, desire time...