Memorial Saint Augustine, Bishop & Doctor of the Church

Readings: 1 John 4:7-16; Ps 119:9-14; Matthew 23:8-12

It would be difficult to exaggerate Saint Augustine’s influence on Christian theology, especially theology in the Western/Latin/Church. Augustine, who lived in the fourth and fifth centuries. He was a native of North Africa, which at that time was ruled by Rome. Without a doubt, he is the greatest of the Latin Church Fathers.

Augustine’s mother was Saint Monica, whose memorial the Church observes the day before that of her son. Next to the Blessed Mother, Monica is probably the best model of Christian motherhood in the history of the Church. A devoted Christian who was married to a non-Christian, she sought to bring Augustine up as a Christian. Instead, as a young man, Augustine fell in with the Manicheans.

Manicheism was a gnostic sect. One feature of Gnosticism is its pitting of spirit over and against matter. According to this view, spirit is good, and matter is bad. Beyond this, Augustine was also greatly influenced by the philosophy of Plato, which also tends toward body/spirit dualism. It was not until, as a grown man, Augustine, a professor of rhetoric, went to Milan that he converted. Monica accompanied him there. Saint Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, was influential in Augustine becoming a Christian.

After returning home to North Africa, during which trip his mother died, Augustine was named the Bishop of Hippo-Regius, an ancient city, the ruins of which are in the modern country of Algeria.

Without a doubt, Augustine’s best-known work is his Confessions. Even today, it is considered a masterwork, not just of Christian or religious literature, but of world literature. It remains a highly influential and, hence, much-read and commented-upon text. Next to his Confessions, he is best known for his work The City of God.

While Saint Augustine's work remains magisterial in many ways, he was never able to entirely shake off the Manichean-Platonic dualism. I suggest, a bit controversially, that this can be seen, at least to some degree in the two-kingdom polity he set forth in The City of God, which, until the latter third of the last century, was highly influential in political theology for both Catholics and Protestants, even if, starting with Martin Luther, it has been applied with much more rigor in the latter.

Augustine’s personal experience of God is well-expressed in our first reading from 1 John, which reveals to us something quite astounding and beautiful: “God is love.” His response to God’s loving initiative toward him is love. We speak a lot about the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love. But you can’t really have faith without having love and love is what gives us hope. These three, like the persons of the Blessed Trinity, while distinguishable, are inextricably bound together.

In his Confessions, all of which are addressed to God, Augustine asked “What does love look like?” He answers- “It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like.”

That also strikes me as a good way to summarize today’s Gospel.

Year A Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Kgs 19:9a.11-13a; Ps 85:9-14; Rom 9:1-5; Matt 14:22-33

Judging from our first reading and our Gospel, wind is a central feature of our readings for this Sunday. At the beginning of the first creation story in Genesis chapter one, life begins to emerge after a “mighty wind” sweeps “over the waters.”¹ In Saint John’s Gospel, Jesus teaches that, like the wind, the Spirit blows wherever he will.²

In our reading from 1 Kings, how Elijah the prophet came to be on Mount Horeb is because that is where he fled when Jezebel, wife of Ahab, the king of Israel, the Northern Kingdom, sought to kill him. Once there, after finding safety and solitude in a cave, the LORD inquired of his prophet “Why are you here?”³

Elijah, being honest in prayer, tells the LORD that he is there as a result of his obedience. The people of the Northern Kingdom, during this particularly wicked time in their history, Elijah tells God, have forsaken their covenant with God, destroyed God’s altar, and set about killing the prophets. In fact, Elijah is the only one left alive. In short, Elijah says to the LORD “I am here because of you.” He’s not wrong.

How does the LORD respond? By telling Elijah to get out of his cave and onto the mountain where God will pass by, revealing himself. As he emerges, Elijah experiences a violent wind so strong that it breaks rocks, then there is an earthquake, and after the earthquake, a fire. But the prophet did not see or experience God in any of these powerful forces of nature. Nature, after all, is not divine- something many people today, as in Elijah’s day, could well be reminded of.

Finally, Elijah heard “a tiny whispering sound,” or “a light, silent sound,” or, as it is translated in older English versions, “a still, small voice.”⁴ Through prayer, fasting and faithful prophetic ministry, the prophet was spiritually attuned enough to recognize this “tiny whispering sound” as God passing by. If you follow our passage to the end, Elijah’s response, appropriately enough, was awe.

As for the rest of the story, God did not let Elijah stay on the mountain. Instead, he sent him on a mission with the words “Go back!”⁵

Like Elijah, to hear God’s voice, to discern God’s call, to live in obedience to the living God requires communication, communion with God. My dear friends, there is no substitute for personal prayer. Unlike the general term “prayer,” “personal” prayer is not an umbrella term for a variety of spiritual practices.

Personal prayer, while it may arise from and/or lead to meditation and contemplation, cannot be confused with those practices, as valuable and even as indispensable as both are. For a Christian, personal prayer is a conversation with God. Conversations consist of an exchange: speaking and listening; asking and answering.

At the end of each of the exercises that together comprise The Spiritual Exercises, Saint Ignatius of Loyola set forth a colloquy. Colloquy is just another word for conversation. For the colloquy found at the end of the first exercise of the first week of the Exercises, Ignatius bids the exercitant to imagine Jesus on the cross and “begin to speak with him, asking how it is that though He is the Creator, he has stooped to become man, and to pass from eternal life to death here in time, that thus he might die for our sins.”⁶

After providing some questions for the exercitant to ask herself, Ignatius then directs that this conversation “be made by speaking exactly as one friend speaks to another.”⁷ Rather like Elijah speaks to the LORD in our first reading.

To really listen to the Holy Spirit, you first need to hear the Spirit. Especially in our present cultural moment, the noise can easily drown out the signal. The only way to learn how to hear and then heed the Holy Spirit is through personal prayer, which requires eliminating as much noise as possible. That said, it needs to be noted that listening and speaking to God in prayer, while rooted in fixed times of prayers, cannot be limited to just those times. Our communion with God needs to be constant, not just daily but hourly, at times even minute-by-minute.

Perhaps the biggest take-away from our readings this week is that the Lord is in the storm with you. He is not over and above it or even through it. He is there in it with you and for you! While true, the main lesson is not when you’re sinking Jesus will save you. Hence, the corollary to the big take-away is that you shouldn’t wait until you’re sinking to call on Jesus. This means not deceiving yourself into believing that you can do it without him.

During the Last Supper Discourse in Saint John’s Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples “without me you can do nothing.”⁸ In our Gospel for today, the Lord admonishes Peter for his lack of faith. Jesus doesn’t rebuke him for not believing in himself enough. Peter is admonished for his lack of faith in God, for not trusting enough in Jesus Christ.

I’ve heard it said and maybe you have too that God doesn’t care what happens to you as much as he cares about how you respond to it. Well, I think that God cares immensely about what happens to you and how you deal with it. God wants you to encounter him, not through life’s storms, but right smack in the middle of them. This where God is really God. Jesus’ moment of exaltation was when he was lifted up on the cross. It is from the cross that the glory of the Lord shines forth.

As the words to a wonderful contemporary worship song goes:

To see you high and lifted up/
Shining in the light of your glory/
Pour out your power and love as we sing Holy, Holy, Holy⁹

For some people, sadly, either for a lengthy season or for its duration, life is a storm. For most of us, life can be seen as a series of storms separated by periods of calm. Especially during extended periods of calm, we tend to imagine we have more control than we do. Like Peter, a storm quickly exposes our delusions of control. At those times, it makes all the difference in time and eternity whether you place your trust in Christ or exclusively in yourself.

Maybe because of the wind and the waves or the dust, it’s easy to miss Jesus in the storm. But there he is, hand outstretched, waiting for us to call to him, to look at him. Why does he wait? This is where we can benefit from a deep insight from Msgr Luigi Giussani:

Jesus Christ did not come into the world as a substitute for human freedom or to eliminate human trial. He came into the world to call man back to the depths of all questions, to his own fundamental structure, to his own real situation. He came to call man back to true religiosity, without which every claim to a solution of the human problems is a lie¹⁰

Too often we are content with the lie, with the shortcut, the quick fix that will get us out of a fix. Our “real situation” is that we exist for a reason. This reason is stated clearly at the be-ginning of the First Principle and Foundation of The Spiritual Exercises: “Man,” meaning all human beings, “is created to praise, reverence, and serve God our Lord, and by this means to save his soul.”¹¹

As each of you know, everyone experiences life’s storms, usually sooner rather than later. And salvation happens in the midst of the storm. The Christian attitude is captured well by Saint Paul, who knew a thing or two about weathering life’s storms. In his letter to the Church in ancient Philippi, the apostle wrote: “I have the strength for everything through him who empowers me.”¹² Experience is the difference between this being a call back to your own fundamental structure, an empty slogan, or merely a pious platitude.

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1 Genesis 1:2.^↩
2 John 3:8.^↩
3 1 Kings 19:9.^↩
4 1 Kings 19:12- See King James Version.^↩
5 1 Kings 19:15.^↩
6 Saint Ignatius of Loyola. The Spiritual Exercises, sec. 53.^↩
7 The Spiritual Exercises, sec. 54.^↩
8 John 15:5.^↩
9 Michael W. Smith. "Open the Eyes of My Heart."^↩
10 Luigi Giussani. At the Origin of the Christian Claim, 97.^↩
11 The Spiritual Exercises, sec. 23.^↩
12 Philippians 4:13.^↩

Memorial of Saint John Vianney

Readings: Ezk 3:17-21; Ps 117:1abc-2; Matt 9:35-10:1

Saint John Vianney, known popularly as the Curé d’Ars, lived his life as a parish priest. He did so in such an exemplary way that the Church designated him the patron saint of parish priests. Most priests live their lives, and give their lives, by service to the People of God as pastors of parishes. This pastoral work, which is vitally important, doesn’t bring with it a lot of recognition. Many retired priests of my acquaintance, in fact, are a bit dismayed at how quickly they are forgotten.

Apart from the celebration of the sacraments, most parish pastoral ministry happens with people who need it, with those who are temporarily, chronically, or terminally ill, or with those who are troubled in some way, maybe depressed, struggling with substance abuse, or who just can’t seem to catch a break in life or with those who are having relational difficulties, or people struggling with their faith.

What all these situations call for is presence, availability, and accompaniment. To do these things requires tremendous trust in God, a deep prayer life, and a lot of patience. All clerics- bishops, priests, and deacons- are formed to have a deep devotion to our Blessed Mother. It is fitting that the Curé d' Ars was named Jean-Marie. The Church, after all, is our Mater et Magistra- our Mother and Teacher. It’s not saying anything controversial to insist that pastoral ministry has both a paternal and maternal dimension. Above all, one is orders needs to love love those he’s called to serve. That is what makes the Sacrament of Orders Holy Orders.

John Vianney’s priestly ministry took place in the aftermath of the French Revolution. This revolution had decimated the Church in France tearing apart dioceses and parishes. As a simple parish priest, Vianney saw one of his major tasks as catechizing his parishioners. He also spent a lot of time in the confessional, making the Sacrament of Penance frequently available.

He became so well known as a confessor that during the last ten years of his life, it is estimated that some 20,000 people a year came to him for confession. It was not unusual for him to spend 16-18 hours a day hearing confessions. A woman whose husband has committed suicide wanted to approach Vianney to ask him about her husband’s fate. But the line to see him was hours long and she could not get to him. Just as she was ready to give up, the Curé had a moment of mystical insight and shouted over the crowd to her “He is saved!” Sensing that woman still doubted, the priest said “I tell you he is saved. He is in Purgatory, and you must pray for him. Between the parapet of the bridge and the water he had time to make an act of contrition.”

Vianney also saw to the care of the poor in his large rural parish, working to help meet the basic needs of the poorest of his parishioners.

Saint John Vianney heard the call of the Lord issued in today’s Gospel and became a dedicated laborer, absolving sins, healing the sick, and casting out demons. His own encounters with the powers of darkness are quite stunning. Like Ezekial, Vianney’s famous homilies and sermons, which were printed and widely circulated in France even during his lifetime, called people back to the Lord and called them back to the practice of Christian virtue.

Judging from the number of people who came to him for confession, his message of repentance resonated with many thousands of people responding, he touched many hearts and helped turned countless people toward God. Repentance, confession, and contrition seem like good things to be reminded about on a Friday, which remains, even now, a day dedicated to penance- though this isn’t widely understood or practiced.

Despite the fruitfulness of his parochial ministry, Vianney yearned for the contemplative life of a monk. Four times he tried to run away from Ars with the intention of joining a monastery. The last time in 1853, was only six years before his death. As I tell our deacons and some of our priests, if you don’t think about simply quitting occasionally, you’re not taking your ministry seriously enough. By contrast, if you think about it all the time, you have a problem. Parish ministry is very challenging at times, one must be firmly rooted in Christ to withstand the winds that sometimes blow.

Vianney was well-known for his stamina, his perseverance, and his dedication. On this score, it seems relevant to note that he had a great devotion to Saint Philomena, considering her to be his Guardian. This martyr lived in the late third and early fourth centuries. Her remains were discovered in Rome in 1802. She was the daughter of a king in Greece. The king had converted to Christianity. At the age of about 13, Philomena took a vow of virginity for Christ's sake. When Emperor Diocletian threatened to make war on her father, he took his family and went to Rome to beg the emperor for peace.

As it is told, no doubt some of it legendary, Diocletian fell in love with the beautiful young Philomena and, when she refused to be his wife, he subjected her to a series of torments: scourging, from whose effects two angels cured her; drowning with an anchor attached to her (two angels cut the rope and raised her to the river bank); and being shot with arrows (on the first occasion her wounds were healed; on the second, the arrows turned aside; and on the third, they returned and killed six of the archers, after which several of the others became Christians). Finally, the Emperor had her decapitated.

So, on this day when the Church remembers the life and priestly ministry of Saint John Vianney, let us invoke his intercession for all parish priests, for all pastors of our diocese, for Fr. Andrzej, our pastor. May Saint John Vianney’s intercession inspire and strengthen them to continue their labor in that part of the Lord’s vineyard entrusted to each of them.

Year I Wednesday of the Seventeenth Week in Ord. Time

Readings: Exodus 34:29-35; Ps 99:5-7.9; Matthew 13:44-46

There is a passage in the third chapter of Saint Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians that speaks directly to our first reading. In this passage, Paul writes about how much more glorious the “ministry of the Spirit” is than that of the Law, which the apostle refers to as “the ministry of death” and “the ministry of condemnation.”¹

To really understand what Paul is trying to communicate, it’s necessary to grasp that, for the apostle, the Law is perfect. It’s us who are flawed. While Paul certainly believes that human beings can do good things on our own, as it wers (i.e., he’s not an advocate of total depravity, which is quite anti-Pauline), he does not believe that we are capable of keeping the whole Law in letter and spirit.² This is why he refers to it the way he does in this passage.

Ultimately, what Saint Paul is driving at in this very assertive section is that, unlike ancient Israel, for whom Moses became the sole mediator, through Christ and by the power of His Holy Spirit, “All of us, gazing with unveiled face on the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as from the Lord who is the Spirit.”³

Having the Holy Spirit makes all the difference! It is the Holy Spirit who enables you to recognize the kingdom of heaven. More than recognizing it, the Spirit helps you to see not just the value of God’s kingdom relative to worldly things, but to see things as they really are and for what they really are. What the Holy Spirit seeks to do is give you an intense encounter with reality.

This intense encounter with reality forces a fundamental decision on everyone who has it. This decision is about how you are going to live your life and the priorities by which you are going to live. Very often, as Christians, we view faith as icing on the cake of life. But faith that is faith becomes the rule of life.

As Paul intimates, this transformation doesn’t happen all at once. Rather, for the one who sees and recognizes the surpassing value of the kingdom of heaven, this transformation happens little by little, en español poco a poco. The reason for this is that your life matters. What is your life except those things you do every day, the aggregation of the experiences you have?

This is why Saint Ignatius’ insistence on finding God in all things truly means in all things- in the good, the bad, and the ugly of life. For one who lives by faith, this is not just important but vitally necessary. This puts into bold relief the importance of having a method of prayer, like the Examen. Sometimes just where or how God is in some experiences or certain periods of your life isn’t so obvious. You may have to look for him.

Far from hiding, God wants you to find him. Learning to truly see God in all things enables you to move beyond the platitude spouted by the likes of me that God is in all things to seeing for yourself just how that is the case. Because God knows each one of us intimately, better than we know ourselves, how he works in my life is different from how God works in yours.

In its current, incomplete configuration, the kingdom of heaven is hidden in plain sight. It’s most often found in the middle of the world’s messiness. Hence, we need a way of seeing it, of discerning its presence even when it is right in front of us.

Once you learn how to see it, you can’t unsee it. To see it is to behold reality according to all the factors that constitute it. It transforms you day-by-day, encounter-by-encounter, poco a poco.

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1 See 2 Corthinthians 3:7-18.^↩
2 See Romans 2:12-16.^↩
3 2 Corinthians 3:18.^↩

Memorial of Saint Ignatius of Loyola

Readings: 1 Corinthians 10:31-11:1; Ps 34:2-11; Luke 14:25-33

Much can and has been said about Saint Ignatius of Loyola. Most of all, he is known as the founder of the Society of Jesus, known popularly as the Jesuits. As you probably all know, Pope Francis is a Jesuit, that is, a member of the Society of Jesus and, therefore, a son of Saint Ignatius.

What is not given enough attention is the revolution in Christian spirituality that was wrought through Ignatius. His story is pretty well-known. Born Iñigo de Loyola into a noble Basque, not Spanish, family, he initially set out to find fame and fortune as a soldier. Badly wounded in the hopeless defense of Pamplona in 1521, he went home for months of recuperation.

During his convalescence, wanted to read novels about chivalrous knights of the kind Cervantes’ Don Quixote was so fond. But all he had to read was the lives of the saints and the Cistercian Ludolf of Saxony's well-known Vida Christi As a result, he experienced a profound conversion. Once he was well, set out as a pilgrim.

But his deepest experience of conversion happened in Manresa, a town near the great city of Barcelona. From 25 March 1522- mid-February of the following year, Ignatius lived as a beggar, ate and drank sparingly, and practiced other extreme penances, which he later discouraged others from doing. He went to Mass daily and spent seven hours in prayer, often in a cave outside Manresa.

During this time, he was walking beside a river and, according to his autobiography, “the eyes of his understanding began to open and, without seeing any vision, he understood and knew many things, as well spiritual things as things of the faith.” While a mystic, Ignatius never claimed any grand visions. Shortly after this he began to write down what would later become the Spiritual Exercises.

Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises are the means by which the revolution in Christian spirituality brought about through him was achieved. These were revised and refined several times before they reached the final version we now possess.

This portrait of Ignatius is thought to be an "authentic portrait," ca. 1598-1600

Relevant to our first reading, the motto of the Jesuits from Ignatius’ day to our own has been Ad majorem Dei gloriam- for the greater glory of God. Another of Ignatius’ key insights is not just the possibility but the importance, even the necessity of finding God in all things. The axis around which the revolution in spirituality wrought through Ignatius orbits is his conviction that God speaks to everyone directly; God communicates with each person.

Hence, what the Spiritual Exercises are geared towards are learning methods of prayer through which God speaks, not in weirdly revelatory ways, but in a quite ordinary ways through your daily experiences. The key word in Ignatian spirituality is discernment. Specifically, how to discern in order to do God’s will.

The daily Examen is perhaps the most accessible of the practices Ignatius set forth in the Spiritual Exercises. This daily practice unfolds in five easy steps:

1. Become aware of God’s presence- God is always and everywhere present
2. Review the day with gratitude- even as you consider those things you did wrong
3. Pay attention to your emotions- consider what you were feeling and thinking at the time and how you feel about them now
4. Choose one thing from the day and pray from it- it can be something for which you are grateful or something you regret, use this as prayer starter
5. Look toward tomorrow- Christians are people of hope, trusting in God's goodness

Apropos of our Gospel, Ignatius was very serious about the importance of poverty and simplicity of life, not just for the members of the Society he founded, but as a way of Christian life appropriate to one’s state of life.

Saint Ignatius was serious about always bearing in mind the final end for which you are created and redeemed, and for which are being sanctified: eternal union with God. It seems fitting, therefore, to end this short reflection with the beginning section of the Spiritual Exercises:

By the term “Spiritual Exercises” is meant every method of examination of conscience, of meditation, of contemplation, of vocal and mental prayer, and of other spiritual activities that will be mentioned later. For just as taking a walk, journeying on foot, and running are bodily exercises, so we call Spiritual Exercises every way of preparing and disposing the soul to rid itself of all inordinate attachments, and, after their removal, of seeking and finding the will of God in the disposition of our life for the salvation of our soul

Year A Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Kgs 3:.7-12; Ps 119:57.72.76-77.127-128.129-130; Rom 8:28-30; Matt 13:44-52

Whenever Jesus teaches a parable beginning with “the kingdom of God is like,” we need to pay particular attention. As we have seen the past few Sundays, parables are understood allegorically. We should be grateful, as his trusted disciples, for those parables, like that of the sower, that Jesus himself gives us the correct allegory.

Before we get to what the kingdom of heaven is “like,” we need to ask what the kingdom of heaven is. While not yet fully realized, the kingdom of heaven is already here. This kingdom was inaugurated by Jesus Christ, who, according to Origen, the great Church father who remains the unsurpassed master of scriptural allegory, is Autobasileia. Autobasilieia, which is a big Greek word, means something like "the kingdom in person."

So, wherever Christ is, there is the kingdom of heaven. As the inspired author of the Letter to the Colossians points out “the mystery hidden from ages and from generations past… is Christ in you.”¹ Just how does Christ come to be in you? Well, the Holy Spirit, who, since Pentecost is the mode of Christ’s resurrection presence, is the one through whom Christ can dwell both in and through you.

Each of the Church’s sacramental rites features an epiclesis. Epiclesis is a Greek verb that simply means to call down. In the sacrament of the Eucharist, the epiclesis occurs during the Eucharistic Prayer. It sounds something like this:

Make holy, therefore, these gifts, we pray, by sending down your Spirit upon them like the dew-fall, so that they may become for us the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ²

It is the Holy Spirit who transforms the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ. It is the mystical Body of Christ we receive that, in turn, transforms us into Christ’s true Body, the Church.

At the end of Mass, having been thus transformed, we are sent to make Christ present wherever we go. This how is the kingdom of heaven of which Jesus speaks presently exists. This is perhaps stated better by the lyrics of a song written by Michael Card:

Every time a faithful servant/
Serves a brother that's in need/
What happens at that moment/
Is a miracle indeed/
As they look to one another/
In an instant it is clear/
Only Jesus is visible/
For they've both disappeared³

The kingdom of heaven is not something abstract that will be realized in some distant future and that has little to do with us. As Christians, our mission is to make the kingdom of heaven visible and present here and now. Let’s not forget that a simple definition of a sacrament is a visible and tangible sign of Christ’s presence in and for the world. This means by virtue of your baptism, your confirmation, and your ongoing participation in the Eucharist, you are to become a sacrament- a visible and tangible sign of Christ’s love in and for the world.

Saint Lawrence was a deacon in Rome who lived in the third century. Pope Valerian entrusted Lawrence, who was a young man, with the management of all the Church’s assets. After Valerian was arrested while celebrating Mass and beheaded shortly thereafter, the agents of the emperor set their sights on the young protégé of the Bishop of Rome: Lawrence, whom they knew was entrusted with the Church’s wealth.

After his arrest, Lawrence was given three days to round up the wealth and surrender it to the emperor. During those three days, Lawrence sold everything and distributed it all to the poor. When the emperor summoned the deacon to his palace on the third day, he asked him to hand over the treasure on pain of death. Whereupon he gestured back toward the door where, streaming in behind him, poured crowds of poor, crippled, blind, and suffering people. “These are the true treasures of the Church,” he boldly told the emperor.

Lawrence understood that the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field and like a pearl of great price, worth selling everything to obtain. To say something is “like” another thing is to establish a recognizable similarity but not an identity. The kingdom of heaven is infinitely more valuable than any earthly thing.

Another thing that needs to be noted about the kingdom of heaven based on Jesus’ teaching, is that it is a kind of a bizarro world. It’s where the first will be last and the last will be first. It’s the world the meek will inherit. It is a kingdom that will not be and cannot be brought about either through political action or by force.

Lawrence, and many other holy women and men throughout the Church’s history, are certainly among the keepers caught by the net cast by God into the sea of humanity. Even though, like his bishop, Valerian, he died as a martyr, he is one for whom all things worked for his good because he loved God.

For a Christian, death is not the worst fate. As we hear Jesus say elsewhere in Matthew’s Gospel, “do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather, be afraid of the one who can destroy both soul and body in Gehenna.”⁴ Currently, the memorial acclamation we’re using is “Save us Savior of the world, for by your cross and resurrection you have set us free.”⁵ Christ has set us free from the fear of death, which frees us for fearlessly making present the kingdom of heaven.

Solomon was wise because, as a young king, instead of asking for riches, power, or fame, he asked God for wisdom to govern the kingdom with which he was entrusted. Wisdom comes through discernment. As the example of Saint Lawrence amply demonstrates, true wisdom often, as in almost always, seems counterintuitive and countercultural. He did the wise thing, which to the eyes of many, looks very foolish.

Let this petition from our Collect for today be our prayer:

O God… grant that, with you as our ruler and guide,
we may use the good things that pass
in such a way as to hold fast even now
to those that ever endure⁶

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1 Colossians 1:26-27.^↩
2 Roman Missal, Eucharistic Prayer II, sec. 101.^↩
3 Michael Card. "Distressing Disguise."^↩
4 Matthew 10:28.^↩
5 Roman Missal, Eucharistic Prayer II, sec. 105.^↩
6 Roman Missal, Collect for the Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time.^↩

Year I Friday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Exodus 20:1-7; Psalm 19:8-11; Matthew 13:18-23

“Lord, you have the words of everlasting life.”¹ Only someone with ears to hear can credibly make this statement. In our first reading, we hear about God revealing the Ten Commandments, to Moses.

Rather than a list of dos and don'ts, the Ten Commandments can easily be seen simply as a list of don'ts. Based on a certain, tone deaf, reading this can result in constructing a religion of “Don't!”

As Irish Catholic writer John Waters, reflecting on the highly Jansenistic version of Catholicism that was all too common in Ireland and in which he was raised, once observed- the question the Church has to answer is “What comes after don't?"² In other words, “Don't” is not enough, not by a long shot!

Jesus’ teaching is about what comes after don't. What comes after no is agape, that is, self-giving, self-sacrificing love. This why his so-called Two Great Commandments are positive: love God with your entire being and love your neighbor as you love yourself.³ It’s more accurate, then, to say that love comes both before and after don't.

One of the ways “the Evil One comes and steals away what was sown in [someone’s] heart” is by convincing that person that Christianity is just a big “Don't!” and that God is a cosmic killjoy, who stands opposed to enjoyment, happiness, excitement.⁴ It is a short leap from there to understanding being a Christian as one who strictly follows a prescribed set of rules.

On this view, the more rules you follow the better Christian you are. As most of us know, this is a shortcut to hypocrisy. Perhaps nothing is more off-putting than hypocrisy. This pseudo-Christianity is anti-evangelization. It’s not good news. It’s just old news.

What was fundamentally wrong with the Pharisees’ approach to the Law is that they mistook means for ends. According to the Gospels, love seems to have played little or no role in their understanding of the Law. In other words, they seem not to have had ears to hear.

One way to put this is that you obey the commandments out of love for God as a way to love your neighbor. Looking at the Ten Commandments, we can schematize them in the following way: the first three are about loving God; the last six are about loving your neighbor.

What about the fourth commandment? It is about honoring your parents. It’s true, your parents occupy a unique place between God and other people. I can’t think of a better way to end than by invoking today’s Gospel acclamation:

Blessed are they who have kept the word with a generous heart
and yield a harvest through perseverance⁵

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1 Responsorial, see Readings link above.^↩
2 Final chapter of John Water's book Lapsed Agnostic, entitled "After Don't".^↩
3 Matthew 22:36-40.^↩
4 Matthew 13:19.^↩
5 See Readings link above and Luke 8:15.^↩