Mistrusting and fearing God's kingdom

As part of my morning prayer time, I have been reading slowing through the Gospel According to Saint Luke. I'm reading Luke, of course, because the Church is currently in Year C of the Sunday lectionary. Year C primarily features Saint Luke's Gospel. It's always amazing to re-read scripture and be drawn to aspects of the text that I've previously just read over.

Yesterday, I began reading the twenty-second chapter of Luke. I am using the original edition of the Jerusalem Bible. I like this because it is kind of non-standard. The first pericope found in this chapter consists of its first sxi verses. These verses have to do with the desire of "the chief priests and the scribes" to do "away with" Jesus. As the Jerusalem Bible translates it, they wanted to do away with Him "because they mistrusted the people" (v. 2). "Mistrusted" here is a translation of the Greek word efobounto, the root of which is the verb phobeo. It is the Greek origin of our word phobia.

In reality, this word is best translated as "they feared." Mistrusted is an interesting and, I think, insightful choice. In verse 6, Judas goes to the chief priests and scribes to freely offer to hand Jesus over to them "without the people knowing." Normally, that final phrase is brought into English as something like "in the absence of the crowd." I think the focus on things being done in an underhanded, opaque, and autocratic way highlights something important.

Jesus teaching in the Temple, from Standard Bible Story Readers, Book Five (1928), authors: A. Stemler and Bess Bruce Cleaveland

In the Jerusalem Bible's rendering, I think "mistrusted" is connected to Judas entering into his deadly pact with those who wanted to do away with Jesus without the people, who were gathering each day in the Temple precincts to listen to this Galilean knowing anything about it. The Lord's words against these religious figures and their corrupt institution were, to put it nicely, unsparing. His teachings clearly resonated with the people. This is what caused the authorities to fear the people in their desire to put a stop to this troublesome Galilean.

These same authorities clearly mistrusted the people who were hanging on Jesus' every word, who believed Him and in His authority. The people of Jerusalem seemed to be treating this peasant nobody from backwards Galilee as though He might be the Messiah!

Keep in mind, in the synoptic Gospels Jesus only journeys to Jerusalem once. In Luke 9:51, the inspired author writes that Jesus "resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem." He set out at once. He didn't take the typical route, which avoided Samaria. Instead, He went right through Samaria.

Without getting into the intricacies and complications of it, there is the sensus fidelium- the sense of the faithful. This very concept is mistrusted by many. Of course, this sense is not reliabliy expressed by opinion polls or through voting. In my view, one of the biggest issues with synodality as it's currently understood and practiced is that it is seen as a kind of parliament. At least to this point, even if it were meant to be a legislative body, it cannot be said to be anything close representative of the Church. It is important for the voice of the faithful to matter and to be heard, not dismissed.

Linking this up with Jesus' ministry in Jerusalem, those who proclaim God's kingdom in all of its world-upending purity are still seen as troublesome. In the first section of an essay he wrote for a book on Christology- Who Do You Say That I Am: Confessing the Mystery of Christ- entitled "The Kingdom of God and the Theological Dimension of the Poor: The Jesuanic Principle," Fr Jon Sobrino, SJ noted "Forgetting the poor has gone hand in hand with forgetting the Kingdom of God." He goes on to point out that "By the time of the fourth-century conciliar debates it is clear that the Kingdom of God plays no role whatsoever in Christology" (page 113).

In short, by that time the transcendent had eclipsed the immanent, essence overshadowed existence. While since the Council there has been some attempt to recover the immanent, led primarily by liberation theologians, like Sobrino (even methodologically, "liberation theology" is far from monolithic), it seems hard to strike a better balance.

Being largely a bourgeois phenomenon, Christianity these days tends toward the metaphysical to ease the angst, the boredom, the monotony of the materially comfortable. This is the kind of self-absorption that Pope Francis has sought to identify, criticize, and lead us beyond during his pontificate. His urging us to go to the margins, to be good stewards of creation, to seek peace and reconciliation often don't land well in prosperous parts of the world or among many who belong to the theology guild. Monty Python's "Christmas in Heaven" from their movie The Meaning of Life comically sets forth a version of bourgeois heaven.

When it comes to the transcendent and immanent it is not either/or. But attempts to achieve a balance are resisted mightily by the mighty; plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. But this, as no less than Pope Benedict XVI noted in his very first encyclical Deus caritas est, only lends credence to what is perhaps the main Marxist critique of Christianity: get people to worry about life after death instead of the here and now. This way you can exploit them much easier.

I am writing this Thursday evening. As soon as I completed writing what is above, I prayed Evening Prayer. The first and second Psalm for this office for Tuesday, Week II of the Psalter, is Psalm 72 (it is split up for use in the Liturgy of the Hours). This Psalm is about the reign of the Messiah, who "shows pity to the needy and the poor and saves the lives of the poor" (v .13). One of prayers in the Intercessions is

Teach us to restrain our greed for earthly goods
    -and to have concern for the need of others

Either that or you can focus on resisting chocolate or beer, right? Something about rending your heart, not your garments... the interior work instead of the exterior show.

Our traditio is a song off Sinéad O'Connor's Christian album, Theology. Listening to her album this week reminded me of a lovely article written at the time of her death in 2023 by another Jesuit, Fr. Matthew Cortese: "How Sinéad O’Connor taught a Catholic priest how to pray." Our Friday traditio is "The Glory of Jah"

Year C Second Sunday of Lent

Readings: Gen 15:5-12.17-18; Ps 21:1.7-9.13-14; Phil 3:17-4:1; Luke 9:28b-36

Sacrifice has been an act of worship, an act of thanksgiving, an act of petition across many times, places, and human cultures. Our first reading from Genesis tells of Abram (not yet Abraham), our father in faith, making such a sacrifice at God’s request.

Israelite sacrifices were but shadows of the ultimate sacrifice our Lord made for us on the cross. While God still desires sacrifice, in light of Jesus Christ, these are not bloody rituals involving select animals. Rather, God seeks bloodless self-sacrifice. Turning to Psalm 51, known as the Miserere, which is recited as the first Psalm of Morning Prayer for Friday during all four weeks of the Psalter, we make this offering:

My sacrifice, O God, is a contrite spirit;
a contrite, humbled heart, O God, you will not scorn¹

We can’t leave it there, the psalmist, in the verse just before, says to God:

For you do not desire sacrifice or I would give it;
a burnt offering you would not accept²

Making external sacrifices is easier than offering God a contrite and humble heart, which consists not only of a willingness to change, but a deep desire to be converted, to be more conformed to the image of Christ. Lent is easily taken up with the static of what you give up, which can amount to giving God what He doesn’t want, withholding what God really desires.

We live in a society and culture in which sloganeering often passes for thoughtful discourse. As Catholics we seem enamored of a slogan that passes for a eucharistic theology: through the consecrated bread and wine, the Lord gives Himself to us “body, blood, soul, and divinity.” I do not dispute this in the least. However, it is vital to point out how woefully incomplete this is. The Eucharist is an exchange according to the economy of gift, not a repeatable magic trick.

When properly grasped, the sacrifice God desires happens in the Eucharist. Yes, He gives Himself to you whole and complete, but He asks you to freely offer yourself whole and entire, that is, body, blood, soul, and humanity. What this amounts to is not so much a commitment as it is the expression of a deep desire, or a desire for a deeper desire to love God with all your heart, might, mind, and strength by loving your neighbor as yourself.

Lent is a time of healing; a time to express your desire for wholeness, for holiness. Hence, Lent is a time to seek, with God’s help, to overcome disordered attachments. A disordered attachment is anything that gets in your way of loving God and neighbor. Hence, Lent is as much about what you take up as it is about what you give up, as much about what you do as what you choose not to do.

The Transfiguration altarpiece, Raffaello Sanzio, 1516-1520

Many years ago, in an Ash Wednesday homily, Passionist Fr. Harry Williams very forthrightly made the point I am trying to get across:

It is a pity that we think of Lent as a time when we try to make ourselves uncomfortable in some fiddling but irritating way. And it’s more than a pity, it’s a tragic disaster, that we also think of it as a time to indulge in the secret and destructive pleasure of doing a good orthodox grovel to a pseudo-Lord, the Pharisee in each of us we call God and who despises the rest of what we are³

Far from despising you, God loves you unconditionally. This is fundamental to Christian life. After all, "God is love."⁴

The point of Lent is conversion. To be converted means to be changed. Considering today’s Gospel, we might say to be converted is to be transfigured. This does not mean to be changed from one thing into something or someone completely different. Rather, it means to become who God, out of love, created and redeemed you to be. This is the process of sanctification, the process of becoming holy, becoming who you really are.

In its Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, Gaudium et Spes, the Second Vatican Council made clear that “Christ… by the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love, fully reveals man to man himself…” Far from annulling or cancelling our humanity, through His incarnation, we have “been raised up to a divine dignity.” Through the incarnation, “the Son of God has united Himself in some fashion with every [single person].”⁵

For a fleeting moment on the Mount of Transfiguration, Peter, James, and John saw Jesus as He really is and for who He really is. As the appearance of Moses and Elijah indicate, Jesus is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, the full realization of God’s plan for creation. Listening is more than hearing. To listen is to heed. And so, Lent is a time to listen to Jesus, God’s chosen Son.

I say who Jesus is, not who He was intentionally. It makes all the difference in the world whether you think of Jesus as a historical figure who lived a long time ago, in a land far away, in an incomprehensible culture, or as being alive and, through the Holy Spirit, palpably present until He returns. Faith is an experience, not an assent to propositions and formulas, as important as these are in certain respects.

On the mountain, Jesus’ closest disciples not only encountered reality as it is meant to be, they saw things as they really are and how they will be forever. One might say, they beheld what is really real. We pray for this each time we pray the Our Father, when we ask, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, one earth as it is in heaven.” And so, rather than seeing it as a dream deferred, Christians, as so many saints show us, live God’s kingdom as a present, if not yet complete, reality.

It is an article of Christian faith that when He returns, the Lord “will change our lowly body to conform with his glorified body.” According to Saint Paul, He will do so “by the power that enables him also to bring all things into subjection to himself.”⁶ What is that power? What that power is not and could never be is coercion, manipulation, or violence.

The power that enables Christ to change our lowly bodies to conform with his glorified body is the power of divine love, which, as the apostle sets forth in the previous chapter of his Letter to the Philippians in what is called the “Kenotic Hymn,” is self-emptying and self-sacrificing.⁷ Love cannot be forced.

Lent is a time for freedom. It is the to freely cooperate, out of love, with God in His on-going work of transfiguration.

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1 Psalm 51:19.^↩
2 Psalm 51:18.^↩
3 Owen F. Cummings. “The Spirituality of Ash Wednesday.” Emmanuel magazine, 2007.^↩
4 1 John 4:8.16.^↩
5 Vatican Council II. Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World [Gaudium et Spes], sec. 22.^↩
6 Philippians 3:21.^↩
7 Philippians 2:5-11.^↩

Memories and mortality

Here we are on the Eve of the Ides of March! The river of time keeps on rolling. March has been quieter here than January and February. This is not by design because nothing on my blog has ever been by design. While far less spontaneous than in my early years of blogging, I remain a pretty intuitive blogger (I don't claim the moniker writer).

This past week marked what would've been by maternal grandpa's birthday. 11 March 2025 was 110 years since the birth of Evan Lamar Stark. He died on 12 March 1976, just a day after turning 61. I was 10 years old at the time. Nonetheless, my Grandpa Stark and I were quite close. I have many memories of our times together, which are probably some of my earliest memories. We did interesting things, like like picking wild asparagus from irrigation ditches and putting our pickings into paper grocery sacks, taking it home, preparing it, and having some for supper.

Next will mark 50 years since his passing. His death was my first experience of someone dying. There was a young girl in our small town, Julie Rose, who died suddenly at about this same time. I remember going into the funeral home, to the room where my grandpa's body was laid out and seeing him. There was an overpowering smell of roses. Ever since, when I smell roses, my mind goes right back to that moment. These days, as opposed to when I was younger, it doesn't seem a bad memory.

Wild asparagus

12 March was also the one year anniversary of the death of Michael Knott. Knott also passed away at the age of 61. Post-mortem, he is usually dubbed an "alternative Christian musician." I suppose the "alternative" adjective is meant to denote that he was not a mainstream CCM musician à la Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, The Newsboys, etc. Indeed, he was not part of that crowd.

What makes Knott's music Christian in my view is that it is real, grittier than the light pop stuff. In addition to recording 35 albums as part of various groups as well as solo, Michael founded two record labels: Blonde Vinyl Records and Tooth and Nail Records. In an interview, he said something that has stuck with me: "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 Christ." Michael, too, battled with alchohol. He did so honestly. I've used this in a homily. If you're interested, you'll want to check out Knottheads.

It bears noting that Knott was raised Catholic and died a practicing Catholic. During what turned out to be his last years, he served as an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion, taking the Eucharist to the elderly, the sick, and the homebound.

These seems fitting reflections given that on Ash Wednesday you are urged to consider your own mortality, invited to find life's meaning through the Paschal Mystery, the meaning of your own birth, life, and death. A good Christian understanding of death is, by, through, and in Christ, it is God's ultimate healing.

Being a time for repentance, Lent is a time for healing. Lent, as Trevor Hudson describes it, is "a time gift." Written long before Pope Francis famously calling "the Church as a 'field hospital,' concerned more with those who suffer than with defending its own interests, taking the risk of novelty, in order to be more faithful to the Gospel," our traditio for this Friday of the First Week of Lent is Michael Knott singing his song "Hospital"-

The temptation of "all this power and glory"

Reading: Luke 4:1-13

"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin" (Heb 4:15). I think perhaps the inspired author of the Letter to the Hebrews had our Gospel for today in mind when he penned this line. Indeed, during His earthly sojourn, the Lord was truly tempted, as any human being is. The big difference, as noted, is that He did not succumb to any temptation, He didn't fail any test.

You might say, "Sure, it's easy to resist temptation when you're God." Without ceasing to be God, Jesus became fully human. He's not half human and half divine. He is fully human and fully divine.

Christians, maybe especially Catholics, tend to get so hung up on Jesus' divinity that His humanity sometimes falls by the wayside. We know from the Gospels that Jesus experienced hunger, fatigue, anger, joy, sadness, the full range of human emotions and moods. You know what, from time-to-time, as He walked along the dusty roads of His native Galilee and later Judea, He had to step off the path go behind a bush. Shocking, I know!

The real question is, can someone be truly tempted if they simply do not find what s/he is tempted with in any way appealing? "Can I tempt you with a sriracha-covered apple?" In other words, if there is no possibility whatsover that said person could or would give in to the temptation, does that count as being tempted?

In light of this question, we must ask if there was any possibility that Jesus might've turned stones into bread to feed Himself, to seize worldly power to more effectively and efficiently establish the reign of God by coercive means through the state, or to hurl Himself, in a display of power putting His divine Sonship on full display, headlong off the parapet of the Temple, trusting the angels to catch Him before He hit the ground?

Sticking with the inspired author of Hebrews, I am going with there not only could've been, but must've been at least some attraction for Jesus in such temptations. Otherwise, these are not temptations, that is, tests. Are we simple spectators to a divine puppet show?

Since we're reading from Saint Luke's Gospel, the same goes for the Blessed Virgin Mary: she could've declined to bear God's Son, which, for her, was a risky proposition. It was her fiat, her "Be it done to me according to your word," her free consent that makes her so wonderfully special and worthy of our hyperdulia, our super-veneration. God desires this same emphatically loving response from each of us, a response so loving that it overcomes fear. Love is always a risk.

Getting back to the second of the temptations from our Gospel, it is a perversion of the Gospel to seek to impose the Lord's teaching by coercion through the state. This is the way of Caesar, not of God. Sometimes these are difficult to disentangle.

For several centuries beginning in the fourth century, the Church drank deeply from the well of the Roman imperium. We are still disentangling ourselves from it- Vatican II was a big step in that direction- but that is to digress. It seems a perennial temptation for Christians and even the Church at times to seek "all this power and glory," to fall for that with which the devil tempted our Lord.

This is not to argue against Christian involvement in politics. Far from it. Applied to political involvement, this has to do with the means to be used in service of achieving desired ends. Those things that are harmonious with the Gospel and that appropriately belong to politics must be argued for in a persuasive way and freely accepted by those who are governed and not simply imposed.

Integralism and so-called Christian nationalism are to be rejected on Christian grounds, rooted firmly in the teaching and example of Jesus Christ during His life and ministry. Like Christians of the earliest centuries and even many in recent centuries, we must be willing to live our faith not only in hostile situations but in situations of indifference towards what we believe. Doing the latter may ultimately prove more difficult.

Between Jesus' Ascension and His glorious return God's kingdom is only present in kernel form, here and there, wherever Jesus' teachings are freely lived out, motivated by love of God and neighbor, not fear of punishment. In fact, being motivated by love, agape, caritas, in many contexts means that love outweighs the very real fear of punishment. Wasn't this the case with Jesus Himself?

"... renew within me a steadfast spirit"

For Roman Catholics, Ash Wednesday and the three days that follow are something of a warm-up for Lent. What we call the three days following the start of Lent indicate this. For example, liturgically, today is Friday after Ash Wednesday. By contrast, next Friday is the Friday of the First Week of Lent.

Hearkening back to my homily for Ash Wednesday, Psalm 51, the Miserere, is the first Psalm of Morning Prayer for today. Along with Evening Prayer, Morning Prayer is a "hinge" hour of the Liturgy of the Hours. Morning and Evening Prayer are the hinges on which the other five hours (or offices) swing. At least in the United States, Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer, the hinge hours, are what deacons are obligated to pray.

There are times, especially during Advent and Lent, when I mix this up a bit and pray the Office of Readings and Night Prayer, thus maintaining my ordination promise to faithfully pray the Liturgy of the Hours with and for the people of God. I start praying the Office of Readings on the Fifth Sunday of Lent, when this office consists of reading from the Letter to the Hebrews, which is one of my favorite books in all of Sacred Scripture. This goes on through Holy Week.

It bears noting that except when a solemnity falls on Friday (I include Friday in the octaves of Christmas and Easter in this), Fridays throughout the year are days of penance. So, just as every Sunday, even during Lent, is a little Easter, each Friday is a little Lent. As my long history on this blog shows, I believe this practice to be very important.

In Psalm 51 we pray: "A clean heart create for me, God; renew within me a steadfast spirit" (v. 12). I don't know about anyone else, but the plea for "a clean heart" is for me a constant plea. But especially this Lent, I am asking God to renew in me a steadfast spirit. If I had to describe 2025 thus far in one word that word would be destabilizing.

Being destabilized is not all bad. I've been struggling through the gateway to a new season of life. This has meant discerning where it is the Lord is leading me, where He wants to me go. I am a bit like the rich young man, except I am no longer young and not terribly rich. Following Jesus always comes at a cost. What is the reward for following Jesus? Jesus!

Lent is a blessed season. With everything going on, all the rancor, vitriol, uncertainty, and, yes, what seems like destabilization, it probably seems to many people that Lent began early. This is understandable. For many, Pope Francis' health crisis only adds to the cloudiness of the present moment. It seems we all need to be renewed with a steadfast spirit.

Since I've already invoked Hebrews, let us not lose sight of this revealed truth: "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever" (13:8). Jesus is Lord is much more than an empty, that is, political, slogan.

All political slogans are ultimately empty. All ideologies contain the seeds of their own destruction. They cannot deliver on their promises because what they promise is ultimate and politics are provisional, transitory. When it comes to political engagement, it is vital for Christians, eschewing ideology, to exercise prudential judgment. Being, in the words of Jesus, "shrewd as serpents" and, at the same time, "simple as doves" (Matt 10:16).

What is more worrisome about ideologies is that they can destroy their adherents and decimate socities. Christians need to resist those that seek to co-opt Christianity and/or the Church in the service of an ideology. I believe there is an inverse proportionality between how loudly a politician proclaims his/her Christian allegiance and the actual Christian nature of their politics in one way or another. If nothing else, such a stance lacks humility.

Don't get me started on politicians parading around with ashes on their foreheads. It would be far more convincing if they also sported sack cloth suits. So much American Christianity is performative these days. We put the scribes and Pharisees to shame. "Show your ash," indeed!

I think of a story of the late Msgr Lorenzo Albacete, who, on a visit to St. Peter's Square, pointed to the Egyptian obelisk and said something to the effect that it is flipping the bird to all the ideologies of the world. This is an interesting "take" to be sure.

It should come as no surprise that our traditio for this Friday after Ash Wednesday is the Miserere. Specifically, sung by The Sixteen, it is the Miserere composed by Gregorio Allegri most likely in the 1630s, during the pontificate of Urban VIII. It was intended to be used exclusively in the Sistine Chapel during Tenebrae services of Holy Week.

Ash Wednesday

Readings: Joel 2:12-18; Ps 51:3-6.12-14.17; 2 Cor 5:20-6:2; Matt 6:1-6.16-18

Our responsorial Psalm is Psalm 51. Known traditionally as the Miserere, this Psalm is penitential. Because Fridays throughout the year are days of penance (unless a solemnity falls on a Friday), the Miserere is the first Psalm for Morning Prayer for all four weeks of the Psalter.

Have mercy on me, O God, in your goodness; in the greatness of your compassion wipe out my offense. Thoroughly wash me from my guilt and of my sin cleanse me¹

Only sinners, those who have done wrong, need mercy. Penance is how we cooperate with God in his redemptive work of setting the world aright. The world needs to be set aright because of sin, because of your sin and mine. God’s invitation for us to repent, God’s desire for us to reconcile with Him and one another, is a great kindness.

In his Letter to the Romans, Saint Paul insists that “all have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God.”² In 1 John, the scriptures make clear that “If we say, ‘We are without sin,’ we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.”³

These scriptural passages make it clear that all of us need God’s mercy. In a long interview given at the beginning of his pontificate, the first question the interviewer, a fellow Jesuit, asked was, “Who is Jorge Mario Bergoglio.” To this, the Holy Father replied:

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 sinner⁴

If you do not think yourself a sinner who needs a Redeemer, then you simply cannot be a Christian. Knowing one’s need for a Savior is fundamental to Christianity. On a personal level, it’s easier to discuss the perceived sins of others. But during Lent, God urges you to confront yourself. Looking back to last Sunday’s Gospel reading, Lent is the time for each of us to remove the beam from our own eye.⁵

Ash Wednesday Masses have no penitential rite at the beginning. This is due to the imposition of ashes. Receiving ashes, which we will do in a few moments, is the penitential rite for this Mass. To receive ashes in good faith, you need to be resolved to heed the words said as they are imposed: “Repent, and believe in the Gospel.”⁶

Repentance, which is a translation of the Greek word metanoia, refers to much more than acknowledging and being sorry for your sins, which is only the beginning of repentance, just as fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.⁷ This where this “Gospel” you are to believe in comes into it. This good news assures us that perfect love drives out fear.⁸

To repent, then, means to literally transform your mind. Turning again to Romans, Saint Paul urges

not [to] conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect⁹

It is the Spirit of God by the grace of God who transforms you. Nonetheless, a Christian isn’t content to keep living the way s/he lived before encountering Christ. Even in confession, one must not only express genuine sorrow for sin but be resolved, with God’s help, “to sin no more and avoid whatever leads me to sin.”¹⁰

Lent is a word from old English meaning “springtime.” This is the time of year when seemingly dead things “spring” back to life. A Christian life is a penitential life. Far from a life of misery, a penitential life is a joyful life, a happy life, a life immersed in the love of God, a life of loving your neighbor.

Lent isn’t for making yourself miserable in some piddling way for several weeks. Neither is it the time when you try to atone for your own sins. When you consider prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, which should characterize Christian life, focusing on one, like fasting, especially when it takes the form of giving something up, to the exclusion of the others, is an exercise in missing the point. What good is it, for instance, just to give up chocolate for Lent, especially when chocolate abounds at Easter?

Almsgiving is about what you are going to take up for love of neighbor. Right now, in a society in which more and more people are struggling in some way, what you do is probably more important than what you choose not to do. Prayer is opening yourself to God to be transformed so that you can discern God’s will and receive strength to carry it out.

Spiritual disciplines, of which prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are the foundation, are means to the end of loving God with your whole being by loving your neighbor as you love yourself.

The irony of Ash Wednesday, which is not a holy day of obligation (though it is obligatory to fast and abstain), should not be lost on any one of us. We hear from Saint Matthew’s Gospel not to draw attention to our prayer, fasting, and almsgiving and then come to Mass and receive a big black smudge on our foreheads.

It bears noting that receiving this smudge is not a universal practice even among Roman Catholics. In many places, as one comes forward with head bowed and has a few ashes sprinkled on the top of the head, as opposed to smeared on the forehead.

Regardless as to how the ashes are received, ashes mark you, not as a sinner, but as a penitent: a sinner who trusts in God’s love and mercy. As such, ashes are not worn as a sign of pride, let alone displayed in a righteous way. Neither are the ashes worn with shame, which would be a denial of the Gospel we profess to believe. They are worn humbly and with gratitude for what the Father as done for us in Christ Jesus. These ashes are a sign of hope, which is the flower of faith and love, agape, caritas, is their fruit.

Just as the penitential rite for this Mass is different, so is the dismissal. Rather than being sent forth to glorify the Lord by your life or to announce the Gospel, we pray that God will pour out upon those who bow before his majesty and who are committed to being transformed, “a spirit of compunction.” In this context, “compunction” refers to a feeling of guilt for one’s sins.¹¹ Just as guilt is good if it helps you to repent, Lent is good if it helps you to repent.

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1 Psalm 51:3-4.^↩
2 Romans 3:23.^↩
3 1 John 1:8.^↩
4 Antonio Spadaro, SJ. “A Big Heart Open to God: An interview with Pope Francis.” America, Vol 209. No. 8^↩
5 See Luke 6:41-42.^↩
6 Roman Missal. Ash Wednesday.^↩
7 Proverbs 9:10.^↩
8 1 John 4:18.^↩
9 Romans 12:2.^↩
10 Act of Contrition.^↩
11 Roman Missal. Ash Wednesday.^↩

Last Sunday before Lent

Readings: Sir 27:4-7; Ps 92:2-3.13-16; 1 Cor 15:54-58; Luke 6:39-45

I want to begin by making a clarification: the opposite of pessimism is optimism and optimism is not hope. One can be a pessimist and still have hope. I know because c'est moi. My hope is in God and in God alone. In the person of Jesus, God became human. God is one of us! As Saint Paul notes in today's "epistle" reading, it was by becoming one of us that He was able to die and rise. Jesus conquered sin and death. This is my hope.

Hope is made manifest in reality. Every Spring is a resurrection. Every morning that I awake is a resurrection. Every dark valley I have passed through and come out the other side verifies my hope. It also enhances my trust in the One who walks with me through valley of the shadow of death, which is a poetic way of referring to the One who walks with me on the journey of life.

As unrelated as it might seem to the other readings, as is often the case during Ordinary Time, when the lectionary seeks to explictly connect the Old Testament reading to the Gospel, thus, more often than not, leaving the epistle reading to fend for itself, there is a connection between our passage from the fifteenth chapter of 1 Corinthians and the Gospel.

Eternal life doesn't begin after physical death. To live on that basis is to wish more than hope. Rather, eternal life begins when, after having died and been buried in the waters of baptism, you emerge, come forth, arise. From that point forward, your life should look different, should be different, a change from how you previously lived, a life characterized by Jesus' teachings.

In short, as Christians, our lives should look redeemed. As Nietzsche intimated, too often Christians don't look or seem redeemed.

Lent starts Wednesday. Ash Wedensday to the First Sunday of Lent is kind of a Lenten warm-up period. Lent is the time to repent. While repentance starts with acknowledging and being heartily sorry for one's sins, it does not consist only or mainly of that. Let's eschew what Bonhoeffer famously called "cheap grace." To truly repent is to endeavor, with God's help, to live a more Christ-like life.

Like Job, Eccelesiastes, Proverbs, Psalms, the Song of Solomon, etc. Sirach is a wisdom book. As such, it contains divine wisdom. Our passage from this wisdom book urges you to be careful what you say, to be patient in tribulation, to pay attention to what others say and how they say it.

When it comes to judging, it is important to clarify things. First, we inevitably make judgments all the time. Guess, what, this is fine, even necessary. This even extends to matters of good and evil. Let's face it, you can't live very long without making a judgment. But, in ultimate terms, judgment belongs to God alone. Whether applied to yourself or others, what Jesus says is true: "from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks." Speech provides a basis for judgment.

Be measured and prudent even when, maybe especially when, you're speaking critically on some matter about which you care deeply. By all means, speak the truth, call out lies, do so courageously, stand up for the downtrodden, warn others not to eat rotten fruit, but don't hate. Don't let your heart be contaminated with poison. Trust me, I understand that living in a toxic culture increases the risk of spiritual cancer. But you can take measures to ensure you don't get sick.

Here are some of Jesus' prescriptions to protect you from the toxicity that frequently engulfs us: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, especially when the latter takes the form of serving others. Especially this Lent, we should all focus more on what we're taking up rather than what we're giving up. The moment we're living calls for much more than making ourselves uncomfortable in some piddling way.

Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are spiritual disciplines. These are fundamental to living a Christian life. Of course, disciples follow the disciplines taught by their master so as to become more like the master. Because these disciplines are aimed at making us more self-giving, more self-sacrificing, they are meant to make us more like Jesus. Living this way is meant to make you joyful, truly happy, not miserable. The extent to which practicing these makes you miserable is the extent to which you and I need to repent.