Social and ecclesial detox- a personal note

For the past six weeks, I have really enjoyed just going to Mass.

I work for my diocese. My office is in the Pastoral Center, which is just across the plaza from our Cathedral. Since I work nearly every Saturday, I've been attending the Sunday Vigil Mass on Saturday evening. I just attend and assist as a member of the assembly.

While I pray the Liturgy of the Hours and the Rosary everyday, I am back to my default setting of not attending Mass during the week. I made an exception and went to Mass at the cemetery on All Souls Day, which is not a holy day of obligation. That was a lovely experience. Of course, I will go on holy days. I am blessed that there is a small chapel just down the hall from my office. Most days, I pray the offices there.

What I am attempting is a social and ecclesial detox. I think it's working. But, in truth, it's too early to tell. Late last week, I had a very difficult afternoon and evening. These happen now and again. But they don't happen when I am too busy and very stressed. Rather, they tend to occur at the end of busy and stressful periods.

I am usually the first one to tell people to take care of themselves. I encourage people not to neglect themselves, to rest, exercise, eat well, get enough sleep, drink plenty of water, take time off and away, and not feel bad for saying no, or even bowing out of certain things. But up until now, I haven't really heeded my own advice. But, as the saying goes, better late than never.

For now, I am content doing what I'm doing. I am still assessing, still discerning. Next summer I need to make some decisions about how I am going to move forward. These are decisions about what I am going to do, continue to do, and what I'm no longer going to do. There are already some things I've dropped never to pick up again.

Most of these things are parish stuff. In reality, my days of doing a lot parish-level things are more or less over. Quite honestly, I feel I've done my bit and then some. Extenuating circumstances aside, making that break has been liberating.

I'm not even sure I want to continue preaching. When it comes to that, I am happy to be taking an extended break. After a while, I will gauge how I feel about it. It took nearly 23 years for much of the lustre of ministry to wear off. That's a pretty good run, if I may say so. I don't want to just grind, like I was doing through most of last summer. This is a positive development.

While I don't believe for moment that the Lord creates bad circumstances in order to make or to help me grow, he is willing to use such circumstances, if I let him, to walk alongside me. This year has been a stripping away. While difficult, I am grateful for it. At this point, I feel like I can see people, places, and situations more clearly, seeing them for what they are without feeling the need to put a gloss on them. And, at least to myself, I can call it as I see it without feeling bad. This enables me to make better choices. There are a lot of things now from which I just walk away.

Then there are those few with regard to whom I practice benevolent detachment, saying, May God bless and keep you. Go in peace. With a few more sincere iterations, maybe I'll get it. Besides, it's much better than what I've muttered in my worst moments.

I have to say that when it comes to Christian communities, outward growth is not a sign of health. Suffice it to say, Christian communities should be open, welcoming, embracing, not defensive, self-protective, suspicious, closed in, even paranoid. By open, I mean radically so, welcoming the stranger, the person who doesn't look and act like everyone else, instead of feeling threatened. That said, I don't feel called to be a prophet. Inevitably, the consequences of choices will play out.

As Catholics, we need a more unfiltered appreciation of the Sacred Scriptures, less theological gloss, fewer catechetical and scholastic formulae. These often tend to reduce the radicality of the Gospel. Part of a homily is an exposition of the scriptures that were read. We don't get much of that but we need it, as do those who preach.

One historical reality to which many Catholics who engage in polarizing apologetics and triumphalism fail to grasp is that, at least in the beginning, the scripture scholar and professor Martin Luther's project was a reassertion of the biblical humanism of the monastics, especially the Cistercians, like Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, in the face of scholasticism. Rather than me going on and on and on, just read James 2:1-13. How often the rich and/or violent bear it away!

If, as a Christian, you don't believe orthopraxis (i.e., doing the right thing) is more important than orthodoxy (i.e., believing the right thing), then you need to read to the Parable of the Good Samaritan and then re-read it (see Luke 10:25-37). In this parable, Jesus deliberately demonstrates this, making it more than an offbeat assertion by some deacon who is passive-aggresively grinding axes in a blog post (I can be honestly self-deprecating).

Ideally, one (orthopraxis) should flow from the other (orthodoxy), but clearly it doesn't work this way automatically, repeatably, predictably, and not often enough, as Jesus sought to show by telling this story. Even if this somehow works the other way around, does it matter? According to the Gospel, it was the heterodox person who did the right thing. It is the Samaritan who gives us an example to emulate. By contrast, in this parable, it was the orthodox who failed catastrophically and, arguably, as a direct result of their orthodoxy! If this leaves you feeling unsetteled, then it worked!

I fully understand that Christian faith is inherently communal. With that in mind, I note that tomorrow is the universal Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome. Saint John Lateran being both the pope's cathedral as Bishop of Rome and the Church's Mother Church. The chair, the cathedra from which the Bishop of Rome presides over the Church in charity.

But Christian faith also has an indispensible personal dimension, one that is experiential. You know, the old Catholic et/et, that is, both/and. The personal dimension, at times, is not only downplayed, but denigrated. It is downplayed and denigrated for no reason other than as a reflexive and defensive pitch for the institution.

Spiritually mature people see though this. This dimension needs to be fostered by the Church and for the Church. Serious and on-going spiritual formation, making disciples, is the main task of the Church. This must happen for the Church to be both faithful and healthy. Frankly, we do a poor job at this, that is, when we even bother to try.

At present and probably for a long while moving ahead, I feel the need to focus on the personal, continue opening myself to interior transformation. I know I have a long row to hoe, but thank God it isn't a self-improvement project. What this means is daily living my faith in a quiet and consistent manner. It's been nice prioritizing my own walk with the Lord, striving to be true be to the Gospel and my own conscience.

With some frequency, I listen to the daily devotional on the 24/7 Prayer app., Lectio 365. Each devotion ends like this:

And now as I prepare to take this time of prayer into the coming day,
the Lord who loves me says, [a scripture quote, like this from last Wednesday]
in First Corinthians 6:19: "your bodies are temples of the holy Spirit,
who is in you,
whom you have received from God."
Father, help me to live this day to full,
being true to you in every way.
Jesus, help me to give myself away to others,
being kind to everyone I meet.
Spirit, help me to love the lost,
proclaiming Christ in all I do and say.
Amen

It's difficult for me to think of a better prayer with which to start each day!

This Wednesday, the Memorial of Saint Martin of Tours (a.k.a. San Martín Caballero), is my birthday. Most years, I post something to mark the anniversary of when I was born into what Pater Tom called the "demented inn" of this world. This is my birthday post for this year.

And so, as I end one year of my life and start another (in November we're urged to consider the fact that we don't know how many years we have left- memento mori), I am deeply attuned to what the Lord requires of me: "Only to do justice and to love goodness, and to walk humbly with [him]" (italics added- Micah 6:8).

Eschatological expectation and memento mori

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

For a Christian, resurrection isn't a pipe dream, a mere wish, a chimera. Dying and rising, physically, is what resurrection is about. You will be you. The unique, singular person God created and redeemed you to be. All is one, but one like the Father, Son, and Spirit are one- distinct but not separate, unity in diversity, communion.

How can this be? It can be because God is and because God is God and because Christ rose from the dead. I'm in good company when, with Rowan Williams, I cannot conceive of the resurrection in any sensible way except to take it quite literally. Understood any other way kind of defeats the purpose, at least in my view. This is why we don't "grieve like the rest, who have no hope."

The context in which our reading from 1 Thessalonians was written is that of the very early Church. These Christians believed Christ's return was imminent. They believed this because it's what they were taught by no less than Saint Paul himself. Hence, they were disturbed by the fact that some of their sisters and brothers had died before the parousia. In this passage, Paul is consoling them, even as he realizes that maybe the Lord's return isn't so imminent after all.

In 1920-1921, Martin Heidegger gave lectures on The Phenomenology of Religious Life. In these lectures, he used 1 Thessalonians to show how religious life can be understood phenomenologically. One aspect of his phenomenological analysis, one that has bearing on this passage, is the urgency, the expectation, produced by Paul's eschatology, that is, on the expectation of the parousia- Christ's return. Such an expectation generates energy. It creates an urgency and intentionality about living life, about enacting faith.

More recently, in a very short work entitled The Mystery of Evil: Benedict XVI and the End of Days, the Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben noted that for the most part, over two millenia, Christians have lost any perceptible sense of eschatological urgency.

While Christ hasn't yet returned, you will still die. The people you know and love will also die. You don't know when or how you or anyone else will die. But die you will, as will they.

What has become the opium of the masses, if anything, isn't faith in God, or religion. It is atheism or a soft pantheism, a main feature of which is agnosticism concerning any divine characteristics and the rejection of any sort of reckoning, except perhaps for those one deems to be "really bad." One result of this is that life becomes a race against time. This has the effect of making life quantitative rather than qualititative. And so, we make bucket lists and the like.

For example, I ran across something that encapuslates this nicely: "There will come a day when you will take your last trip without realizing it. So, for now, go everywhere you can." With apologies upfront for being crude, there will also come a day when you take your last dump without realizing it. Does that mean, ... Well, you get it, right? Maybe we've all imbibed the lyrics of the song "Imagine" too deeply.

We still confess in the Creed that Christ will return to judge the living and the dead, do we not? Do we say these words without thinking about what they mean? Do we mumble them not knowing what they mean? Do we care whether it's true or not? Does this have any effect on how we live our lives?

Another aspect of early Christian eschatology that we've lost is that we won't dwell in a disembodied form in the heavens. As Paul notes in this passage, Christ will return. Because we will be resurrected, we will have bodies. Hence, we will occupy space. This means we need a place to be. A renewed earth will be that place. See also Revelation 21:2-3.

What we need to recover is the spiritual practice of memento mori- remember death. Far from being morbid, this practice is energizing because it forces you to grapple with being, with human being, with being mortal. It helps you see what matters and what doesn't. I don't think how many places you visit is very important.

It being November, the month we remember the dead as well as the month we celebrate the end of the world as we know it with the Solemnity of Christ the King, makes this passage from the lectionary paricularly valuable. Valuable enough to reflect on.

Recognizing "the inviolability and dignity of the person"

Today I applaud Governor Gavin Newsom's commutation of the death sentences for all 548 people on "death row" in California. I especially appreciate him attending to the survivors of the victims of the crimes committed by those whose sentences he commuted in his letter announcing this momentous decision.

This part of his letter particularly struck me:

Many Californians feel that those who commit brutal crimes deserve to die. But as Governor, I have concluded the state cannot morally kill them. I do, however, pray that this action will finally separate the memories of the victims of these crimes from the fate of those who harmed them

Nonetheless, I don't agree with what he goes on to write about crime and punishment, which I understand politically and reject morally.

Forty years ago, in November 1986, citing his Catholic faith, New Mexico Governor, Tony Anaya, as he was leaving the governorship, commuted the death sentence for all 5 prisoner's on death row in New Mexico. I remember this well as I lived in New Mexico at the time. Remember, too, that it was only in 1976 that with its ruling in the case Furman v. Georgia that the U.S. Supreme Court reinstated the death penalty.

In January 1977, the first person to be executed after the SCOTUS ruling in Furman was Gary Gilmore here in Utah. Norman Mailer's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Executioner's Song was based on the events leading to Gilmore's execution. Mailer's novel was later adapted into a television movie starring Tommy Lee Jones, who won an Emmy for his performance.

As a Catholic, I affirm what the Catechism teaches with regard to the death penalty. This section has been revised twice since the Catechism's promulgation: once by John Paul II and then by Pope Francis. Both papal edits are on the same trajectory.

Recourse to the death penalty on the part of legitimate authority, following a fair trial, was long considered an appropriate response to the gravity of certain crimes and an acceptable, albeit extreme, means of safeguarding the common good.

Today, however, there is an increasing awareness that the dignity of the person is not lost even after the commission of very serious crimes. In addition, a new understanding has emerged of the significance of penal sanctions imposed by the state. Lastly, more effective systems of detention have been developed, which ensure the due protection of citizens but, at the same time, do not definitively deprive the guilty of the possibility of redemption.

Consequently, the Church teaches, in the light of the Gospel, that “the death penalty is inadmissible because it is an attack on the inviolability and dignity of the person”, and she works with determination for its abolition worldwide (CCC, sec. 2267)

I wrote about Pope Francis' change back in 2018 when he made it (see "State your peace tonight").

Last month, in the wake of a highly publicized claim that the forthcoming execution of of Nidal Hassan would be livestreamed, Pope Leo strongly reiterated his and the Church's opposition, not just to the barbaric idea of a livestreamed execution, but to death penalty as such. Posting on X, the Pontiff's words closely echoed the Catechism's formulation:

The death penalty is inadmissible because it is an attack on the inviolability and dignity of the person. The common good can be safeguarded and the requirements of justice can be met without recourse to capital punishment: effective systems of detention have been developed that protect citizens while at the same time do not completely deprive those who are guilty of the possibility of redemption

In September of last year, responding to questions about Senator Durbin declining a Church honor that was to be bestowed on him in the Holy Father's native Chicago, Pope Leo said quite bluntly:

Someone who says 'I'm against abortion but says I am in favor of the death penalty' is not really pro-life (see "The Unreceived Teaching"- it is largely, almost exclusively, in the U.S., where support for the death penalty remains quite high, that Catholics seem not to have received this teaching)

The imago Dei is ineradicable, and that is foundational to any truly Christian anthropology.

While we're calling to mind that even a person who has committed a brutal crime still bears the divine image, it seems important to recount the horrific spectacle of the State of Tennessee's terribly botched attempt to execute Christa Pike. Pike's was not the first execution to go horrificially wrong. Since 2020, there have been no fewer than 10 botched executions. Eight of these were attempted lethal injections. One was by firing squad and the other was an attempt to kill by nitrogen hypoxia, which took more than 30 minutes. Five of the ten have occurred since 2024.

The eighth amendment to the U.S. constituion clearly states that "cruel and unusual punishments" are not to be inflicted. By his death and resurrection, as well as in his teaching, our Lord brought an end to the lex talionis.

Make no mistake, that the death penalty is inadmissible and should be abolished worldwide is the official teaching of the Church. The California Catholic Conference, which consists of all the Catholic bishops in California, issued a statement in the wake of Governor Newsom's executive action. In part, the statement reads:

For California’s Catholic community, opposition to the death penalty flows from the conviction that every person is created in the image and likeness of God. In justice, we uphold a consistent ethic of life, protecting the unborn, the vulnerable, victims of violence, and those who are incarcerated. A properly formed conscience motivates individuals and communities to defend all human life because it recognizes the inviolable human dignity in every person.

With this decision, men and women who have been living under a death sentence have the opportunity for repentance, transformation, and rehabilitation

I will continue to preach and teach what the Church teaches and continue to take all the slings and arrows of the dissenters. Is that to say it's not a matter we shouldn't discuss? Not all. Discussion is one thing, but Catholics who are certain they're right contra the Church's authentic magisterium is another thing entirely.

You are free to agree or disagree, the Church has no mechanism to force you one way or the other. This is as it should be. But the Church has the duty to boldly and courageously proclaim the Gospel.

Believing themselves to literally by more Catholic than the Pope, there are some who quite shamelessly attack the Church's ministers for teaching what the Church teaches. Be that as it may, it's important to continue to teach in season and out, letting the chips fall where they will.

November is the month we pray for the dead. Let's pray for the repose of the souls of all those killed by acts of violence. We should also pray for those who survive them, the ones who bear the brunt of these violent crimes.

And like Saint Thérèse, who fervently prayed for the repentance of the murderer Henri Pranzini, let us also pray that in the time granted them, those among the 548 whose sentences Governor Newsom commuted who have not yet done so, will repent of their crimes. Pray also for those who minister in prisons.

Our traditio for this first Friday in November Johnny Cash singing about the death penalty. Cash covered Nick Cave's song "Mercy Seat" beautifully.

"Life is changed not ended"

Today I attended Mass for All Souls at our Catholic cemetery. In all honesty, it's the first time I've ever gone to Mass at the cemetery. Mass is also celebrated there on Memorial Day in May.

November second is Catholic memorial day. On a brisk fall day, it was nice to see so many people at the cemetery decorating graves of loved ones. People were also walking around, looking at headstones. No doubt, many were saying prayers for those who had no one to pray for them.

I was able to visit the column on which all the names of deceased deacons of my diocese are engraved. It needs to be updated to include the names of those deacons who have passed over the last three years. Especially since this year marks the 50th anniversary of the first men ordained to serve my diocese permanently as deacons, it seemed fitting to pay my brothers respect. It's always nice to remember and think about those I know.

All Souls is beautiful, as is All Saints. Today seems a good time to be reminded that God "wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth" (1 Tim 2:4). It is this emphasis on holiness that links today with yesterday. While we're not saved by our own efforts, salvation and the sanctification it entails is not a passive endeavor on our part. Praying for our dead to help them on their way to God is as old as the Church.

Since Reformation Day is celebrated on October thirty-first, it's a good time to mention indulgences, which can be obtained for the dead. Despite the abuse of indulgences, which served as an immediate cause of the Reformation. After the Second Vatican Council, on 1 January 1967, Pope Saint Paul VI promulgated the Apostolic Constitution Indulgentarium Doctrina. This restatement of the Church's doctrine of indulgences corrects misguided understanding and practice while reasserting their importance.

For All Souls Masses, one of the prefaces for dead is used. These are the prefaces to the Eucharistic Prayer used for funeral Masses. From Preface I For the Dead:

In him [Jesus Christ] the hope of blessed resurrection has dawned,
that those saddened by the certainty of dying
might be consoled by the promise of immortality to come.
Indeed for your faithful, Lord,
life is changed not ended

On a personal note, I am very much enjoying my respite. I like having different experiences, like attending All Souls Mass at the cemetery. It was made nicer by worshiping with so many people I know and love. It was surprising who was there. Better yet, it was gratifying.

In Evening Prayer II for the Office of the Dead, which is prayed today, there are two options for the Responsory for the reading (i.e., 1 Corinthians 15:55-57). In my personal praying of this office, I went with the first: In you, Lord, is our hope. We shall never hope in vain. Followed, after this is repeated once, by, We shall dance and rejoice in your mercy. Amen!

Becoming saints

At least in part because autumn is my favorite season, I adore the annual festival of All Saints/All Souls. Today, I wish to recall that back in 2018, Pope Francis issued the Apostolic Exhortation Gaudete et exsultate. This papal exhortation is "On the Call to Holiness in Today's World." I am confident that as time goes by, the depth and richness of Pope Francis' magisterium will be more and more appreciated and, God willing, appropriated.

Much in the vein of Pope Saint John Paul II, in this exhortation Pope Francis sought to show that holiness isn't as rare as we are prone to think. It also serves as a good guide on recognizing holiness. Primarily, the Holy Father sought to exhort us to appropriately strive for holiness, while warning us of the pitfalls of making it a DIY, or self-improvement project, which he identifies as neo-Pelagianism.

Holiness is our baptismal vocation. To be holy is to be like Christ. To be like Christ is to love perfectly. Any other vocation, like vocations to priesthood, religious life, marriage, intentionally living a single life, etc., are but means to the end of becoming like Christ. Hence, this should be a consideration even when choosing a career path.

We can only attain genuine holiness through God's grace. As we read in Gaudete et exsultate:

The Church has repeatedly taught that we are justified not by our own works or efforts, but by the grace of the Lord, who always takes the initiative (sec. 52)

Holiness, of course, is more than God's work in you. While it is certainly that, it is also letting God work in you, cooperating with God's work through the circumstances you face every day, perhaps especially the difficult ones. In other words, God requires your cooperation, your acceptance of his holy will.

Coronation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Fra Angelico, 1434-1435- Courtesy of Google Art Project via Wikipedia

Each of us needs to recognize we have a destiny. Your destiny is the purpose for which God made you, redeemed you, and for which he seeks to sanctify you. Recognizing this makes you a pilgrim on the way. This puts you on a pilgrimage with everyone else who undertakes this journey. Journeying together as pilgrims makes us companions. When taken quite literally from Latin, a companion is someone with whom you share bread. In other words, holiness is cannot be a solo endeavor. Plus, we need food for the journey- danos hoy nuestro pan de cada dia.

A few sections further on in his exhortation on holiness in our time, Francis insisted:

Only on the basis of God’s gift, freely accepted and humbly received, can we cooperate by our own efforts in our progressive transformation. We must first belong to God, offering ourselves to him who was there first, and entrusting to him our abilities, our efforts, our struggle against evil and our creativity, so that his free gift may grow and develop within us: “I appeal to you, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God” (Rom 12:1). For that matter, the Church has always taught that charity alone makes growth in the life of grace possible, for “if I do not have love, I am nothing” (1 Cor 13:2)

The three-day annual festival of All Saints/All Souls, which starts with All Hallows Eve, is a deeply eccelesial time. In other words, a time when the Church, understood in her fullness- the Church on earth (i.e., "Church militant"- that is still striving), the Church in purgatory (i.e., "Church penitent"), the Church in heaven ("Church triumphant," but the triumph is not fully realized yet, since the resurrection hasn't happened). In the end, the Church is made up only of saints, of those who our reading from Revelation tells us "are the ones who have survived the time of great distress" (Rev 7:14).

Another aspect of All Saints that is important to note is that the Saints, Blesseds, Venerables, and even the Servants of God, like Luigi Giussani and Cora Evans, are known to us. In keeping with the spirit of Pope Francis' exhortation, especially sections 6-9, entitled "The Saints 'Next Door,'" All Saints is when we acknowledge all those holy women and men whose names and life stories we do not know. As many saints as we venerate, I dare say the number of these unknown and forgotten saints is far greater.

"We belong to the light"

It's Friday! A day of penance, which I try to observe throughout the year by abstaining from meat. It's not really much of a sacrifice not to eat meat one day a week but it's something. It's a venerable tradition I like to observe.

I love All Saints and All Souls, which means I love All Hallows Eve, or Halloween, as we tend to call it. If I'm being honest, I like Halloween better when it falls on a weekday.

Celebrating the communio sanctorum, which refers to the communion of holy people and things, this three-day festival is an ecclesial affair through and through. To use terms now largely (and understandably) outdated, during this triduum, we, the so-called Church Militant, celebrate the Church Triumphant and the Church Pentitent. Translated, those in heaven and those in purgatory.

Like a lot of people, my favorite seasons are the transitional seasons. I don't mind saying I prefer autumn to spring. Maybe that's because I was born in the fall? I also love Thanksgiving. "I care for 'Apple Jacks' a great deal" (a cultural reference to ponder).

Here in northern Utah, we're enjoying a beautiful fall. It's been relatively mild and a bit on the warm side. But we've also had rain and even snow in the higher elevations.

This morning, during my walk, on which my wife was able to join me, something she does a few times a week, we had a nice conversation, appropriate to fall. We discussed transitioning to a new a season of life. Both of us tend to be very busy, too busy we agreed. We like serving and, over the years, have spent a lot of time doing it. We discussed our need to ramp some things down in order to focus on our family, our home, and our relationship. In addition to still having three children at home, we also have responsibility for parental care.

Again, 2026 is proving to be quite a pivotal year. Spiritually, a time of stripping away and/or pruning.

It's been a tradition here on Καθολικός διάκονος over the years to post something on Halloween. But I think today's post will serve that purpose. So, our traditio for the eve of All Hallows Eve will be an old classic by the late and very underappreciated Warren Zevon: "Werewolves of London." I've featured this song before for Halloween. The live version from Jools Holland's show in 2000 features a shoutout to the late and venerable Joe Strummer, who was in studio sitting on some steps.

It's either "Werewolves of London" or "Monster Mash." A week or so ago, a "memory" popped up of a Twitter post (can't really get into calling it "X") I reposted:

Yes, indeed! Thinking some more, it might also be Cliff Richards' "Devil Woman."

In keeping with the tradition, while encouraging people to embrace and enjoy Halloween, over the years I've posted this verse:

For all of you are children of the light and children of the day. We are not of the night or of darkness (1 Thessalonians 5:5)

This brought to my mind another song. Pat Benatar's "We Belong." Enjoy the holiday/holy day!

The love open to all

Readings: Exodus 22:20-26; Psalm 18:2-4.47.51; 1 Thessalonians 1:5c-10; Matthew 22:34-40

With my graciously granted discretion, after a long day working, I simply attended the Sunday Vigil Mass at the Cathedral last night. Once again, it was beautiful just to worship. Like last week, I heard a good homily.

In considering our readings for this Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time and Year A of the Sunday lectionary, I couldn't help but think about the the scholar of the Law who, in Saint Luke's Gospel, poses the question to Jesus about what is required for eternal life. Replying in true rabbinical fashion, the Lord asks this man what he thinks. This scholar of the Law goes on to give the correct answer: one "inherits eternal life" by loving God with one's whole self and by loving one's neighbor as oneself.

"Because he wished to justify himself," the inspired author of Luke tells us, this scholar posed a further question, the answer to which is less obvious and is still a matter of contention: "And who is my neighbor?" In response, Jesus tells the Parable of the Good Samaritan (See Luke 10:25-37).

Whether we are reading Saint Matthew's version of this teaching of our Lord's or Saint Luke's, it is important to note that loving God with your entire being and loving your neighbor as you love yourself are commanded in the Law (See Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18b). This is why, in Saint Luke's version, the scholar of the Law answers his own question so effortlessly. As noted, his follow-up question, which, according to Luke, is asked from a less than pure motive, remains the question.

Jesus, as he does more than once in Luke's Gospel, uses a Samaritan as the protagonist of his story. A Samaritan? Can you believe it? Not only a Samaritan, but a Samaritan who ministers to a Jew, one whose plight is actively ignored by his fellow, obviously observant, Jews!

We usually miss the provocation of Jesus using a Samaritan as a good example for his fellow Jews. Maybe it would be useful to re-imagine it as something like the "Parable of the Good Muslim" or the "Parable of the Good None," or, where I live, the "Parable of the Good Mormon" to show what it means to love your neighbor, even as we go about what we imagine to be our love of God.

I know this is drawing from another Gospel to reflect on a passage from our Gospel for today. Typically, this is frowned on because each of the four Evangelists sets forth his own theological program, which should be respected. But, since I am not currently preaching, I'm allowing myself this liberty because I think it is very useful in our present moment.

Early in 2025, there was an attempt to distort and misapply the ordo amoris (the "order of love") for some less than laubable political ends. Essentially, the distorted version of the ordo amoris was an attempt, not to pose the question anew, but answer the question, "Who is my neighbor?" in a way that perhaps the scholar of the Law in Luke's Gospel would've answered it had Jesus also turned that question back to him.

Highlighting the silence of U.S. episcopate in the aftermath of this public distortion of the ordo amoris, Pope Francis wrote a letter addressed to the bishops of the United States concerning this matter. Lest there be any confusion about what the Gospel demands, the Holy Father insisted,

The true ordo amoris that must be promoted is that which we discover by meditating constantly on the parable of the “Good Samaritan,” that is, by meditating on the love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception (see "Letter of the Holy Father Francis to the Bishops of the United States of America")

Like Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18b, our reading from Exodus can be taken as the locus in the Law where the answer to the question "Who is my neighbor?" is found.

Your neighbor is the alien, that is, the immigrant, the refugee. Your neighbor is the widow, the orphan, the poor and dispossessed person whom you encounter. God says in Exodus, "I am compassionate." Getting back to Saint Matthew's Gospel, as his followers, Jesus himself commands us to "be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Matthew 5:48).

Being like the Father is to be like Christ, which is a work of the Holy Spirit. This certainly means perfecting my compassion by materially and spiritually caring for those who are vulnerable. While it certainly includes those who are like you, your neighbor isn't limited to members of your own race, sex, class, nation, profession, sports nation, or, as Jesus shows in his parable, even your religion. To cite an oft-used quote, the Catholic Church doesn't care for those in need because they're Catholic. We do it because we are.

Our reading from 1 Thessalonians continues without a break from last week's "epistle" reading. Paul commends the members of this Church for imitating him and those who accompanied him to ancient Thessaloniki. By doing so, they imitated Christ, thus serving as an example for others. Among other things, following Christ, now as then, means ceasing to worship idols.

Today, there are many idols. One idol that seems to have gained a following is nationalism. Nationalism is often accompanied by implicit or, increasingly explicit, racism and exclusion of other kinds as well. Sadly, this can bleed over into the Church. At root, this is a manifestation, an unhealthy contraction, of one's understanding of who my neighbor is.

Don't get me wrong, patriotism, which is a properly ordered love for one's country, is a virtue, one that is ordered toward pursuing the common good. Nationalism, by contrast, is a disordered attachment. Nationalism is to patriotism what lust is to love or what gluttony is to hunger.

A recent showing of this unhealthy tendency is the distored and hopelessly simplistic (i.e., race-baiting) political explanations for the rioting in France (for an on-the-ground take by an American in Paris listen to The Bulletin from Friday, 23 October, this discussion runs from 17:24 to 32:57).

In the end, Jesus is quite clear that "The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments"- "love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind" and "love your neighbor as yourself." In Exodus, God speaks quite clearly, not about the importance, but of the necessity to love your neighbor. And so, the question remains for each of us, And who is my neighbor?

While love of God is, in some ways, distinct from love of neighbor, the two cannot be separated. In reality, they are so inextricably bound together that you can't have one without the other.