Friday, November 8, 2019

Of Fridays, dry spells, and resulting conundrums

I was off and running for several hours with realizing today is Friday. Holy smokes. Does time fly or what? Like last Sunday, I am lacking for words today. Yes, that sometimes happens. As far as a traditio there are many options. It's been a pretty musical week. This means a pretty good week, as things go.

The Contemporary Christian Music jag I've been on for awhile continues. This past week I purchased a CD of Amy Grant's How Mercy Looks From Here, her 2013 album. I am enjoying it immensely. Since it's autumn, I find myself re-connecting with other music as well. At least for now, I need to resist that darker shades of music I am drawn to and I love. I's a bit of a conundrum to be sure.



Well, the best way to break the logjam in my mind is to go for something a bit unusual, though not unheard of here: sacred choral music. Since it's Friday, meaning it is a day of penance, I am going with a choral version of Psalm 51. Known as the Miserere, Psalm 51 is the first Psalm for Morning Prayer during each week of the Psalter.



As the King James Version translates it, the Miserere begins:
Have mercy upon me, O God,

according to thy lovingkindness:

according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.

Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.

For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me (verses 1-3)

Sunday, November 3, 2019

Experiencing Jesus is life-changing

Since the beginning of November has been a flurry of activity here on Καθολικός διάκονος, I figured I would keep my reflection on the readings for the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time brief. In addition to composing the Prayers of the Faithful, each week I write a little introduction to the readings. This intro. to the readings is read by the lector just prior to the beginning of Mass.

It may be a bit of an exaggeration to state that my brief intro. is for all the readings. What I try to do is distill the basic or most important point from the Gospel for each given Sunday. I hope the result is a very condensed homilette. Anyway, this is the intro. I wrote for today's Gospel, which is Luke 19:1-10:

Zacchaeus being called down from the tree, by William Hole, 1908
Zacchaeus was eager to meet Jesus. When the moment of encounter came, he was not disappointed. Meeting the Lord changed the trajectory of Zacchaeus’s life, causing him to repent, to make amends for his failings, and walk a new path. May our encounter with Jesus in this Eucharist have the same effect on us.

Saturday, November 2, 2019

All Souls Day

Today is All Souls, the final day of the Fall triduum that only begins with Halloween. Today we remember everyone who has died. We pray for them, seeking to help them on their way to the fullness of God's presence. In reality, All Souls is Catholic Memorial Day. In culturally Catholic countries, it is observed as Memorial Day.

While not a holy day of obligation, like All Saints, All Souls is an important feast. But like a lot of formerly "big" feasts, its significance is currently waning. It is a very complex set of factors that contribute to the lack of observance. It seems to me that one factor has to do with the rejection of any idea of ultimate judgment. Strangely, this does not flow from people being less judgmental. At least in the United States and other advanced countries, there has never been more judgment going on than there is now; this is not all bad just as it is not all good.

Divine judgment is not like human judgment. Unlike human judgment, divine judgment is not retributive. God doesn't seek to get revenge or to get even. God's judgment and whatever punishments might flow from it are corrective and purgative. I think perhaps the most painful part of divine judgment for many people will be submitting to Jesus as Lord. Submitting to Jesus's lordship means no longer being your own master. This dethroning is going to hurt. Was not original sin seeking to dethrone God and putting ourselves in God's place?



Someone suggested a few years back that rather than religion being the opiate of the masses the idea that life has no intrinsic meaning or purpose and that nobody will face any sort of judgment is the new drug. Perhaps the central idea of what might be called a Christian cosmology is the belief that how you live your life matters. Another key aspect is that you will always exist as yourself, a self-conscious being. This means how you live has consequences, not only for yourself but in the big scheme of things.

It seems fitting to mention indulgences on All Souls Day. Not many Catholics seek to obtain indulgences. Indulgences remain very much part of the Catholic faith. In essence, indulgences are obtained by intentionally engaging in good acts. This is done in the conviction that rather than further alienating the world from God, you seek to cooperate in bringing the world back that state of communion God intends for it. You can obtain indulgences on behalf of someone who has died.

If nothing else, take some time today and call to mind the people you know and love who have died. Once you have them in mind, say a prayer for them. Because it's an act of memory, I personally think it's important to say their names. Even if you don't go to Mass today, stop by a church, pay a few bucks, light some candles and say some prayers for the people you know who have died. Maybe consider doing this with some regularity, like one Friday a month. After all, one of the ways you can observe Friday as a day of penance is by performing an act of charity. I have taken to defining this to mean doing something kind for someone at some cost and/or inconvenience to yourself. Stopping by a church, paying for and lighting some votive candles and saying some prayers certainly fits that bill.

Christians have prayed for the dead from the beginning of the Church. Hence, praying for the dead is one of the most Christian things you can do. I certainly hope there is someone here praying for me when I am dead.

Friday, November 1, 2019

I need to stop trying so hard

Since I posted my homily for All Saints today, I was up-in-the-air about putting up a Friday traditio. Unless I felt inspired by something I decided not post one. In the interim, I went for a long walk. As I walked I listened to music. Even though I ordered the CD earlier this week (I still do that- weird, I know), I decided to give Amy Grant's 2013 album, How Mercy Looks From Here, a listen. I was not disappointed. The critics were right: How Mercy Looks From Here is a lovely album, a work that beautifully highlights the maturity of the artist.

Before I get to what inspired me to post a traditio today, I need to point out the obvious: It's November! The month begins with All Saints and All Souls, followed by my birthday, which falls on the Feast of St. Martin of Tours, before ending with the great Solemnity of Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, our annual celebration of the end of the world as we know it.



The beginning of November marks the time each year for me to reflect on the past year. In all honesty, I kind of lost the bubble on some important things towards the end of summer. This put me in some peril. As a result, some course corrections are in order. I need to pare back in certain areas and devote more time and energy to other people and activities. Above all, I must try to let go of what I find vexing, all that unnecessarily complicates my life, things that distract me from the things that really matter.

In doing so, I need to leave space for God to work. God is a God of surprises, n'est ce pas? Besides, life is what happens while you're making plans, right?

On the whole, I feel grateful as I look back on another year of life. I look forward to another year if God so wills it. One of the wonderful things about being a Christian is that Christ calls me ever forward, moves me along, seeking to make me ever more fit for the coming of the kingdom.

The Lord never lets me forget, at least not for long, that I am on a pilgrimage. I am often reminded that I need companions along the way. "Companion" literally refers to someone with whom you share bread. The Church, then, is necessary, not extraneous. Time to live more sub specie aeternitatus (i.e., under the aspect of eternity).

Back to our traditio- there was one song off How Mercy Looks From Here that particularly struck me today: "Don't Try So Hard." I was pleasantly surprised that none other than James Taylor is featured singing with Amy on this track! It is a reminder of God's grace, something on which I wholly rely and that I cannot earn.

In case you didn't know it, I am one of those people who strive and strive all the while feeling like I'll never measure up. Too often I place my entire worth in achieving. Hence, even when I perform well, I often still feel worthless. The song poses this question: "When did we start, trying to measure up?" I started so long ago I can't remember.



The chorus of "Don't Try So Hard" conveys a really beautiful message, one I needed to hear today:
Don't try so hard
God gives you grace and you can't earn it
Don't think that you're not worth it
Because you are
He gave you His love and He's not leaving
Gave you His Son so you'd believe it
You're lovely even with your scars
Don't try so hard

All Saints Day

Readings: Rev 7:2-4.9-14; Ps 24:1-6; 1 John 3:1-3; Matt 5:1-12a

What is “the seal” placed “on the foreheads of the servants of our God”?1 You received a seal with the oil of sacred chrism on your forehead when you were confirmed. What did your confirmation confirm? Or, stated another way, Who are you?

What is confirmed through the anointing of confirmation is nothing other than the identity given you at your baptism; your identity as a child of the Father, through the Son, by the power of their Holy Spirit, just as Jesus’ identity as the only begotten Son of the Father was confirmed by the descent of Holy Spirit in the form of a dove and, at the same time, by the voice of the Father: “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased,” as he emerged from the waters of the Jordan after being baptized by John.2

You may well ask, “Who are the 144,000 we heard about in our first reading?” Let’s start by noting that one hundred forty-four thousand is 12,000 x 12. Of what symbolic significance is the number 12 in Sacred Scripture? Twelve were the tribes of Israel and twelve was the number of apostles called by Jesus. It was the apostles, the ones sent (apostle means one who is sent) by Christ to spread the Good News to the ends of the earth, around whom the Church was formed.

Twelve thousand is not, as some suppose, a literal number. Rather, it is symbolic; indicative of the “great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue,” who “stood before the throne and before the Lamb, wearing white robes and holding palm branches in their hands.”3 Their white robes and palm branches are symbols of joy and victory.

Our reading from Revelation, also called The Apocalypse, both words mean to unveil, to show what was hidden, is fitting as we gather this evening to celebrate All Saints, or in older English, All Hallows. So we are gathered to rejoice in our participation in the communio sanctorum (the communion of holy people and things).

All Saints should remind each of us of our vocation, our divine call, to holiness. You received this call in baptism. It was confirmed in confirmation. Holiness, Christ-likeness, arising from your Christian initiation, is the primary vocation of every Christian. You heed this call by prayerfully discerning your state of life- lay or ordained, married or single- as well as the work you choose.



In our Gospel this evening, taken from our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount and familiar to us all as “the Beatitudes,” which constitute the core of Christian discipleship, we are taught in detail how we are to live our vocation, which is not an easy row to hoe.

Let’s be honest, the Beatitudes, for most of us, are a huge provocation. Observing them can throw your life into seeming chaos because how Christ calls you to live is so much at odds with how we are inclined to live, with how we are conditioned to live, and very often with how we want to live. But living in this way is evangelism!

French writer Léon Bloy observed in his novel The Woman Who Was Poor: “There is only one sadness, and that is for us not to be saints.”4 This is sad because, in the end, the Church is only the saints.

My dear friends because of the Father’s great love for us, “we are [his] children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed.”5 It is the saints who not only show us who we are to become, they show us how we are to become who God created and redeemed us to be.

We need each other because holiness is never a solitary endeavor. Our sanctification and that of the whole world, which requires the grace we receive in and through the sacraments, is the Church’s mission. The Church, the assembly of God in Christ, exists solely for this purpose and no other.

Through this Eucharistic sacrifice, God unites us more fully with those who now live in his everlasting kingdom. It is by our frequent sharing in the body and blood of Christ that we are brought into the company of the eternal banquet.6

So, on this glorious feast with the psalmist let us say, “Lord WE are the people who long to see your face,” or, in the words of the song, played and sung so enthusiastically by the great Louis Armstrong: “O Lord, I want to be in that number, when the saints go marching in.”


1 Revelation 7:3.
2 Luke 3:21-22.
3 Revelation 7:9.
4 Alan Morris, OP. “Leon Bloy: A Man for the Modern World,” by Alan Morris, OP in Dominica Journal 33 no 2.
5 1 John 3:2.
6 The Liturgy of the Hours, vol. 4, Intercessions for Morning Prayer, All Saints, 1380.

Sunday, October 27, 2019

Year C Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Sir 35:15b-17.20-22a; Ps 34:2-3.17-19.23; 2 Tim 4:6-8.16-18; Luke 18:9-14

There is a single Hebrew word that comes closest to describing God’s character: hesed. God’s hesed is what allows us to trust that we can ask God “for and expect infinitely more than we deserve.”1 God, in his justice could easily give us what we deserve. Yet, time and again, as often as we sincerely desire and ask for it, God gives us grace and mercy.

Grace and mercy are among the English words used to translate the Hebrew word hesed, as is the word “lovingkindess.” The compound word “lovingkindness” was coined by Myles Coverdale to translate certain instances of hesed in his sixteenth-century translation of the Bible into English.

The seventh chapter of St. Luke is where we find the episode of the Roman centurion whose slave Jesus heals.2 We learn that this centurion is a God-fearer. A God-fearer is a Gentile who might later convert to Judaism. This man prayed, fasted, and gave alms, performing charitable works. Hence, he is deemed worthy to ask and to receive. Beyond this, the Roman cares about his (presumably) Jewish slave. To say this was highly unusual is an understatement but it speaks volumes to the kind of person he is.

Those advocating on behalf of the centurion tell Jesus: “He deserves to have you do this [heal his slave]…he loves our nation and he built the synagogue for us.”3 As the Lord makes his way to the centurion’s house, the centurion meets him on the way and says words that should be very familiar to all of us: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof.”4 The centurion goes on to say, “I did not consider myself worthy to come to you…but [only] say the word and let my servant be healed.”5

Unlike those who vouch for his worthiness, the centurion understands his unworthiness. This is a useful prelude for today’s Gospel. In our Gospel today, Jesus and his disciples are still making their way to Jerusalem. The point of today’s Gospel is that your good works do not earn you God’s favor.6 True righteousness requires an attitude of humility. The only acceptable sacrifice to God is “a contrite and humbled heart,” not a self-assessment of being a “good” or “pretty good” person.7

Of course, as Jesus's disciples, we certainly perform good works. But as we were reminded several weeks back, when we perform good works, like those of the centurion, we are but unprofitable servants.8 You see, we do not perform good works to earn God’s favor. We do them in gratitude for having received God’s favor through Christ Jesus.

The Parable of The Pharisee and The Tax Collector, by Rebeca Brogan


In addition to Samaritans, the inspired author of Luke uses Roman soldiers, tax collectors, and prostitutes as exemplars of righteousness. His encounter with the Roman centurion, which is unique to Luke, provides us with the only instance of Jesus being “amazed” in all of the Gospels: Jesus… was amazed at him and, turning, said to the crowd following him, ‘I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.’”9

The tax collector, whose activities on behalf of the occupying Romans would’ve caused him to be despised by his fellow Jews, is righteous because he sorrowfully acknowledges his unrighteousness. His words, “O God, be merciful to me a sinner” express his need for God’s mercy, God’s hesed.10

By contrast, the Pharisee does the same good works as the centurion. But unlike the centurion, who recognized that he could not justify himself, the Pharisee thought himself thoroughly justified before God and man. In his novel Sabbath’s Theater, the late Philip Roth summarizes the relevant point very well with these words, which he puts in the mouth of his main character, Mickey Sabbath: “Whoever imagines himself to be pure is wicked!”11

The tax collector exemplifies these words from our reading from Sirach: “The prayer of the lowly pierces the clouds.”12 Our epistle reading is an expression of gratitude to Christ for the strength to persevere in faith through many trials, which perseverance results in receiving “the crown of righteousness.”13 It’s clear that righteousness is given, not earned, despite the many trials endured.

Because all have sinned all need God’s lovingkindness, his hesed.14 Jesus Christ is the hesed of God in the flesh. It was only because of his humanity that Christ could die and rise. Jesus rising from the dead is the supreme manifestation of God’s hesed, his lovingkindness. Christus resurrexit, quia Deus caritas est!15

“God’s forgiveness and mercy” observes Michael Card, “represent the gift of someone who, though we have no right to expect anything from him, still gives us all things.”16 Before experiencing God’s lovingkindess, like the tax collector, one has no expectations or perhaps low ones. After you truly experience God’s mercy and forgiveness, everything changes. How can you receive such a magnificent gift, Card asks, and “not respond in kind?”17


1 Michael Card, Inexpressible: Hesed and the Mystery of God’s Lovingkindness, 69.
2 Luke 7:1-10.
3 Luke 7:4.
4 Luke 7:6; Roman Missal, "The Order of Mass," sec. 132.
5 Luke 7:7.
6 Robert J. Karris, OFM, “Luke,” in The New Jerome Biblical Commentary, 710.
7 Psalm 51:19.
8 Luke 17:10.
9 Luke 7:9.
10 Luke 18:13.
11 Philip Roth, Sabbath's Theater, 274.
12 Sirach 35:21.
13 2 Timothy 4:8.
14 See Romans 3:23-24..
15 Pope Benedict XVI, Easter Urbi et Orbi Message, 2006.
16 Inexpressible, 67.
17 Ibid.

Friday, October 25, 2019

God's mercy is the ultimate goodness

Writing takes patience. One of the reasons I haven't been writing more is that I lack the required patience. God knows I haven't run out of things to say. I gave up trying to comment on current affairs a number of years ago, just as I gave up trying to post something everyday. Frankly, in this age of so-called "new media" we have plenty of pundits.

For the past few years I have mostly focused on posting a Friday traditio and a reflection on the Sunday readings. Here and there I'll post other insights. This morning I was thinking about what I might post today. I wanted to post something on this last Friday of October. Again, I have no shortage of thoughts religious, political, philosophical, relational about which I could write. It's having the patience and time to flesh them out into something coherent and perhaps even meaningful to someone apart from myself.



Musically I have been on a contemporary Christian music jag. Mostly this consists of listening to artists and songs from my early days as a Christian. There are four primary artists whose work I love: Michael Card, Amy Grant, Rich Mullins, and Phil Keaggy. I will also cop to liking Michael W. Smith, Casting Crowns, Mercy Me, Third Day and a number of others. Among younger artists I really like Lauren Daigle, with whose music I am just now becoming familiar.

Hopefully, it's a case of looking forward by looking behind- one step back and two forward- and not just a sentimental journey.

There is one artist whose recent work I find myself listening to time and again: Greg LaFollette. Particularly his album Songs of Common Prayer, which is a contemporary take on parts of the liturgy from the Book of Common Prayer. Since today is Friday and I endeavor, in my weakness, to observe Friday in the traditional way, as a day of penance, it seems fitting to have LaFollette's "We Cry Mercy" as our Friday traditio:



Invoking God's mercy, God's lovingkindness, God's hesed is not an act of lament but one of gratitude and celebration. I came across this prayer yesterday, I leave you with it:

May the God of all forgiveness
free you this day
and enable you
to freely forgive others
in the name of the Father,
the Son, and the Holy Spirit
Amen.

The scandal of God's love

Romans 8:35.37-39 Once again, I am reflecting on our reading from Romans. These inspired passages are vital for Christian faith. The beau...