New. Life. - Homily for Easter Sunday (2017)

A very blessed Easter to you and your families.

He is risen! He is risen indeed!

A couple of years ago, I had the blessing to visit the catacombs in Rome. The catacombs, as you likely know, are the underground tombs where, during ancient days of persecution, Christians would not only bury their dead, but also celebrate the Holy Mass. I vividly remember the stairway as it plunged me underground. The brown darkness. The stale air and the smell of soil. The muffled sound. The tightness of the confines. Death…. It was there that I offered the Holy Mass.

After an hour or two, I came out of the catacombs and I remember the first taste of fresh air—there was a delightful hint of flowers—which I had taken for granted before I had gone underground. The sunlight was annoyingly bright (and how quickly I had become used to the darkness)! There was a sense of freedom, of openness, …

This was the memory that came to my mind as I prepared the words for today. It is, as I look back, a memory that provides a kind of microcosm of my life. There was a time when I was in a dark place, where the faith was stale and confining—and then there was a time when I began to “seek what is above”; I emerged from the world of death and began to breathe the fresh air of beauty and goodness and truth.

This is the question that all of us are faced with today: that is, at this very moment, in which place are you? Are you in the stale, dreary, lifeless kind of faith? or are you in the world above—where things are new and full of hope? How would you describe your faith right now?

And what is your expectation of Christianity in general? What is your expectation for today? Oftentimes, we expect things to continue as they are. So, if we’ve found little, we oftentimes expect little.

*          *          *

I’m sorry if I’m rambling a little bit today, but I’m really, really tired. We had the Easter Vigil last night and it was totally awesome—30 people came home to the Catholic Church! It was so beautiful. But it is also a really late night and here I am at the Mass at Dawn with you all. If you think this morning’s Mass is long, last night’s Mass lasted over two and a half hours! (And Monsignor was going at a really snappy clip, too!)

It was actually pretty funny: there was a young boy in the front pew—he was one of three to be baptized. And this young boy of about 10 has little idea that this Easter Vigil is going to clock in under three hours. And so we start Mass and it’s dark in here and we get through one reading. And then another. And two readings becomes five. And by the time we reach the homily, we’re nearing one hour!

And maybe I was imagining things, but I think I started to see him slowly—so slowly with each reading—slowly…  start… to…. lean forward….

And before he was able to get any sleep, his godparents brought him and the others to the baptismal font. And Monsignor asked them about whether they renounced Satan and believed in God and they said I do in that “hey, it’s past my bedtime” kind of voice. And then this young boy climbed into the baptismal pool—

And his eyes became wide: “Ooh!” This water's cold!

And Monsignor takes a big bucket of water and says “… I baptize you in the Name of the Father”—and pours the cold water on the boy. And he goes: “Oh—Brrrrhhrrrhrhrh!”

And before he can catch his breath, Monsignor pours more water: “… and of the Son…”—And now the young boy is laughing! Laughing not in the “this is silly” kind of way, but in the “this is totally awesome, invigorating, I don’t know else to respond” kind of way.

And by the time the third pour with the words “And of the Holy Spirit” were said, I knew what was happening. This young boy was being woken up. He was being filled with the Holy Spirit. This was a new day—a day that would never be forgotten. Shoot, I’ll never forget it. (I nearly laughed myself silly and cried at the same time. It was beautiful).

*          *          *

I say all this because at the very heart of Christianity is the belief in tremendous—miraculous!—transformation. Jesus died. He was as dead as a doornail. And then three days later, He is raised from the dead. This isn’t reincarnation. This isn’t re-animation. This is the Father filling His Son with a whole new and glorious life.

And it is totally reasonable to believe this. I mean, not only do the guys-in-power see it, but the women do too. Their voices matter-- or, at least, I think so. Of course, we may have learned something silly in college that filled us with doubt and plunged our faith into darkness. And we would have dismissed the ridiculousness of our misguided professors if but for one thing: some of us had already started to doubt the truth of Christianity. For those of us, we had begun to doubt because we didn’t see the tremendous, miraculous change in the very lives of those around us who claimed to be Christian. I mean, so what if this Jesus died and rose—what difference does that make in my life?

Let's admit it: for many of us, the life of faith, like that Easter Vigil, had grown long and tiresome. We have lost some of the eager expectation that was the hallmark of our beginnings in that faith. 

*          *          *

At the heart of Christianity is the scandalous assertion that this crucifixion-resurrection drama can play out not only in the life of Christ, but in every person who welcomes it. How many lives of the saints—men and women just like you and me—how many of their lives start in less than heroic (ok, let’s just say it: sinful!) ways? I mean, you think you and I are horrible sinners? Tell that to St. Paul or Augustine or Ignatius!

The Father of the Prodigal Son, on seeing his return, cries out: “My son was lost and is now found! He was dead and is now alive!”

Those words—we’re always using those words about ourselves and about forgiveness and so on. You see? The Resurrection not only shows us the victory of Christ; but it also reveals to us the very miraculous change of anyone who truly receives this same Jesus. You—you, dear brothers and sisters!—you were dead and are now alive!

This was the whole point of Lent. What was the reason for the season? The reason for Lent is to prepare us for New Life—to transform us from stale, dead ways to the new, fresh breath of new life.

So, for example, when we went to confession, there our Father forgave us of our sins—He freed us from all of that weight of all of that baggage we had been carrying for so long. We were given a new beginning of goodness. When we fasted, we learned about how much we take for granted and how attached we have become to things. That peanut butter and jelly sandwich after a long day’s fast—man, that never tasted so good! That fasting suddenly infused so much beauty and appreciation in something so simple as a PBJ for me. 

… And yeah, maybe your Lent was horrible—maybe you were a total failure. But do you know what? God was doing something in you there. He was making you humble. You see: we often think that holiness and salvation are totally up to us. They’re not. They are firstly up to God. After all, He says, “Without me, you can do nothing.” We don’t really believe that some times. We come up with a stellar plan for Lent and we beat ourselves up when we don’t follow through. Perhaps God is saying: “Ok, did you ask me for help? Do you really believe that you are really actually and totally dependent on me for everything?”

*          *          *

 At the end of the Lenten Season, I look up at the Cross and not only do I see Jesus, my Savior whom I love and owe everything. But at the end of the day, I also see myself. I see everything that was dark and evil and stale and dead in me—I see everything Jesus has taken and crucified. Crucified because He wants me to have a new life, a free life, a beautiful life!

*Looking at the Cross* That’s me before I emerged from the catacombs. That’s me when I was in a dark place: depressed, anxious, searching for meaning, angry, impatient, and resentful …

Amazing Grace: “I was blind, but now I see.”

I was lost but am found. I was dead, but am alive.

I am walking around right now in gold-- you in your Easter dresses and nice, crisp suits. We are all saying: "Hey, we're not in the tomb anymore!" We just have to live that-- which means that the dark parts of our lives need to go up on that Cross and truly die. Only then will we truly experience the beauty of this awesome, transforming Christianity.

The Resurrection is real, my dear friends. And not only because a couple saw it on that Easter morning. But because I have experienced it in my own life, too.

*          *          *

This is my prayer for you today: that our Father can say about us—indeed, that we can say it about ourselves: “I was lost and am now found. I was dead but am now alive!”

I want us to expect this kind of transformation from Christianity again.

I want the world to expect to see this kind of transformation from Christians again.

I pray our Lord may bring this resurrection into our life through the crucifixion of our old, stale lives of sin—I pray that our Lord may do this so that we can attest to the world the reality of our faith. I pray that we can speak this in word and in deed to all—I was dead, but am now alive!—and to proclaim this humbly yet confidently.

I want people to say not only of Jesus Christ, but of each one of us: “Wow, he is risen. He is risen indeed!”

May this be our expectation this Easter. May God grant us this New Life! Amen.

Of Trees and Temptations - Homily for the 1st Sunday of Lent (A)

One of the great joys of my priesthood is to be the director of the RCIA program here at St. Joe’s. The RCIA program is for those who wish to learn more about the Catholic faith and discern whether they wish to enter the Church. And we praise God that over 30 of our brothers and sisters will join us in the Eucharist for the first time at the Easter Vigil. (May we have 60 next year!)

During our months together, the RCIA participants ask a whole host of questions. And I’ve found that many questions are asked about today’s first reading from the book of Genesis. One of the popular questions I’ve heard is: “Why did God make the tree and then tell Adam and Eve not to eat from it?” As parents and grandparents, we know that if we have cookie jar and tell our children not to eat from it, what will they do five minutes later? They will be eating from the cookie jar! So, why this tree?

First, we must note that the tree is not evil. God does not make bad things. Even the serpent—he was once a good angel, Lucifer, who chose evil and who subsequently “devolved” (that’s what sin does). God makes everything good—this tree is good. But what God has done is used it as a means to teach Adam and Eve about the nature of Love. Love, if it is really love, must choose; it must choose between self-centeredness and self-sacrifice. God, when He makes the tree, is giving Adam and Eve the space to choose what kind of Love they will have: an obedient, self-sacrificial love or a disobedient, self-serving love.

Notice: do Adam and Eve have to eat from the tree to know the difference between good and evil? No. God has already told them: eat from all of those trees over there (obedience)—that is good; do not eat from this tree here (disobedience)—that is bad. He has already given them the wisdom. They don’t need to grasp for the fruit to have wisdom—they already have been given the gift!

But that’s the trick of the devil: he convinces Adam and Eve that God is holding something back.  That’s how the devil often gets us, isn’t it? Convinces us that God is not a good God, that He’s keeping something good or better from us. And so, we do our own thing and grasp for something—often at the expense of love.

So, why did God create the Tree? For love. To give us a chance to love. And, here’s the kicker: not only to love Him, but also each other; because, if we can’t trust God, then the love and the trust between spouses will quickly fail—which is precisely what happens to Adam and Eve. They cover themselves because they are now afraid—of what? Of each other. Of being used. Of not being loved.

*          *          *

This brings us to a second, often-asked question: Whose fault was it—Adam or Eve’s?

(With a smile) It was all Eve’s fault. *Closes Gospel book*

No. There’s more to it than that. Remember: who was with Eve? Adam was. And what mission did God give Adam? To care for everything in the Garden. This included Eve. Yes, Adam and Eve are equals, but God gave Adam the strength to care for Eve—knowing that there would be danger lurking about.

That danger came when the devil went after Eve—as the devil often does: attacking the woman. Adam was supposed to fight for his love, the one that was “bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh!” But what did Adam do? Nothing. He was quiet. And when the husband, the man with the strength, is quiet and doesn’t use his strength to fight for the family, the wife gets anxious, she grasps for what she things will make her secure. “I’ve gotta have this,” she says. And the devil’s got her.

You see, when we love something, we have to fight for it. In our culture, we have divorced loving and fighting—people think love happens without a fight. That’s naïve. We’re going to have to fight if we are truly going to love.

That’s the point of the second reading. Through the disobedience of one man, Adam, sin entered the world (notice where Paul puts the blame: on Adam!). But through the obedience of the other man, Jesus, life entered the world and forgiveness (“acquittal”). In other words: whereas Adam did not fight the devil, Jesus did. Jesus fought for us. He fought for His bride. Jesus stood up to the temptation. And why? Because of love. Jesus loves His Father and He loves us. So Jesus fought for us. Forty days in the desert: fighting the pain of hunger, fighting the urge to give in, fighting against the devil himself. “The Lord is a warrior. The Lord is His name!” (Ex 15:3).

*          *          *

What does this mean for us? In Lent, we are invited to enter into the battle for love. We have opportunities for fasting, for sacrifice, for giving, for praying—and in all of that there is the choice, the battle, to fight for what and for whom we love. Just like Adam and Eve, God has given us this blessed time of Lent—just like that tree—so that we may choose between self-centeredness and self-sacrifice. To love or not to love.

There will be temptations in this, just like there are throughout the year. In these, perhaps it may be good to become like Mary, too—Mary who is the New Eve—who also does battle. Have you ever noticed how many statues of Mary have her stomping on the head of the serpent? That’s taking from Genesis 3:15, where the Scriptures prophesy how the Mother of God will crush the head of the serpent.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I have never tried to crush the head of a snake. I’d probably use a shovel. Mary is depicted using her bare feet. Which means that she is doing this quickly—you can’t crush the head of a snake daintily. Otherwise, you get bitten. Mary crushes the tempter quickly, with force! *bam!* That’s Jesus’ mother. That’s the one who taught Him from her lap. If the Lord is a warrior, I have a hunch that to some degree, His mother is, too. Kind, gentle, mild—yes. But when it comes to the devil, Mary’s not gonna have any of it.

That’s what we need to be this Lent and, really, whenever we face temptation.

Because, when the devil comes bartering for our soul, we must remember that there are only two outcomes: life or death, heaven or hell, good or evil. We can’t mess around with the devil. Think of it this way, if someone came to you saying, “Hey, do this for me—do this and I will pick a nice spot for you in hell. You know—with the fires and the grinding of teeth and the wailing and the anger and loneliness and stench.” Who among us would say, “Yeah, let me think about that for a moment… that kinda sounds like a good idea….” No! We would say, “You’re crazy! Get away from me!”

But, let’s be honest: when we entertain temptation, we are seriously pondering that this hell is a good idea. This is why sin is stupid. (That’s my definition—that’s not Magisterial…) Sin is stupid.

This is why the devil coats the evil with some kind of good. The devil, for the most part, doesn’t just simply come out and say “Deny Jesus. Deny Jesus and make me king.” No, the devil is more subtle. The devil will say something about how God understands, and that it isn’t so bad. Just a little bit of doubt.

We have to fight against this.

If we are not actively fighting against temptation, we will start buying the devil’s lies. If we are not crushing his head, then we will start to doubt. We will start to think that God is holding something back. And we’ll grow resentful and bitter—especially when we are told that we can’t do something. And we’ll grasp—we’ll make our own way—and we’ll rationalize it by saying that God doesn’t see, because God doesn’t love us. And then that becomes God doesn’t matter. And, then: God doesn’t exist. So, we’ll establish our own way. And we’ll make our own gods. And when those don’t fill us, we’ll make ourselves god.

Which is what the devil promised: “if you eat… you will become like gods.”

And therein is the greatest lie of all. Because we already were. We were already like gods. Adam and Eve were made so as to never die; they were eternal; they could love like the angels and share the mind and heart of God. A share of divinity had already been given them. But they doubted it. And so they lost it.

*          *          *

We have been given that share—we just have to receive! Which means we have to battle the urge to grasp. That urge to doubt and cry out: “Lord, why are you keeping this from me?” “Why can’t I have just this one thing? Just this once?” We sometimes make it a holy crusade: “Lord, all this time I served you and never did you give me this one thing…” (that’s the older brother of the Prodigal Son, by the way).

But we must believe that God is good. That He’s not holding anything back. If there would have been a greater gift that Jesus, God would have given it. But this is the greatest gift.

In fact, do you remember how many named trees there were in the Garden? There were two: The Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life. We’ve talked about the first one; what about the second? Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden before they could eat from the Tree of Life.

We, however, get to eat from this tree. The Tree is the Cross and the Fruit of this Tree of Life is Jesus. On the night before Jesus died, He gave us this fruit in the Eucharist—His body and blood, the Bread of Life (“whoever eats will live forever”). And that’s perfect when we think about it: Jesus undoes the first, the Original, Sin (which was accomplished by eating) by giving us something to eat: namely, Himself. His body and blood, soul and divinity, to be united to our body, blood, soul, and humanity—to elevate our humanity, by grace, to His divinity. In this way, we really do become “like gods.”

Do you see? Jesus has loved us to the end! He has held nothing back. He loves you! Come, let us love Him in return!

The Two Transformations - Homily for the 6th Sunday in OT (A)

Ok. Can we take a moment and pray about what we have just heard? I mean, I know that for many of us, Jesus’ words hit us right in the heart—and some of those words may have been hard to listen to or understand. And I think we just need to take a moment and pray and ask for the Holy Spirit to guide us here…

*          *          *

In my life, I have come to realize that God is not simply in the business of getting people to “fall into line.” God is firstly in the business of transforming us. Let us never forget this: God is in the business of transforming us.

And I’ve found that there are two major kinds of transformation.

The first transformation that God wants for us is that transformation from being adrift in the world to being chosen— from being pagan to being religious—from being just like everyone else in the world to being His. This is why God gave the Commandments: He gave these to choose and to transform a people that would be His own. “This people,” He says through the Commandments, “This people will not be stealing and killing like the others out there. This people will not be marrying many wives or worshipping many gods like the pagans. This people will be different.” That’s what the Commandments do. This is the first transformation.

And I liken it to a kind of fence. I know many of you have seen the movie The Sandlot. It’s a story about kids that play baseball in this field—the sandlot—and there is an old wooden fence that separates this lot from the house next door—a house that has a mean dog called The Beast (very apropos!). So there is the Sandlot on one side of the fence and on the other side of the fence there’s the beast. The fence separates the play and fun and children from what is dangerous and menacing. In much the same way, the Law of God acted as the fence separating and thus initially transforming an otherwise ordinary people into the People of God.

Hence, Jesus upholds commandments like “you shall not kill” and “you shall not commit adultery.” Because that fence is still needed! Cultures—even historically Christian cultures like our own—forget these very basic truths. This is why Jesus doubles down saying, “whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do so will be called least in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever obeys and teaches these commandments will be called greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”

So, keeping the law is important. That’s the first part of this Sermon on the Mountain.

*          *          *

The second part reveals the second transformation: where our “righteousness [must surpass]… that of the Pharisees.” This second transformation is about being not simply a follower but a lover—specifically, a lover who loves as Christ loves.

What this means is that Jesus doesn’t simply want us to “not kill,” but He wants to have our hearts transformed in such a way that we avoid the beginnings of that—that anger and resentment and disdain for others. The new transformation—that of charity—is so important that Jesus says that “If you… recall [at the altar] that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there… and be reconciled with your brother and then come and offer your gift.” In other words, in this second transformation we see that we cannot approach the God of love at the altar when we refuse to love another. This why Catholics have the Sign of Peace. At the Sign of Peace, we are really supposed to reconcile with others such that, if there is someone that we are at odds with, we must first be reconciled with them before we can receive communion. Reconciliation before Communion. That’s how much God wants this transformation for us.

Notice, then, the next lesson in the Sermon on the Mount: Jesus continues: “You have heard that it was said, You shall not commit adultery. But I say to you, everyone who looks at a woman with lust
has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” Notice the need for transformation: Jesus doesn’t simply want us to “not commit adultery”—that is important—but He even wants our eyes and hearts transformed in such a way that when we see a beautiful person, we don’t lust over that person as though they were an object—because treating a person as an object is not love. Fifty Shades of Gray is not love. Pornography is not love.

And notice how much Jesus wants this second transformation for us: “If your eye causes you to sin… if your hand causes you to sin…” He says, get rid of it! It’s hyperbole, of course, but it is to prove a point: the transformation to charity is so important that it is worth losing even your limbs over.

*          *          *

Now comes the sensitive part of Jesus’ Sermon. He says: "[In the past] It was also said, Whoever divorces his wife must give her a bill of divorce. But I say to you, whoever divorces his wife—unless the marriage is unlawful—causes her to commit adultery, and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.”

What is going on here? Ironically, the Pharisees were allowing divorce because, as Jesus points out, “the hardness of their hearts.” I say this is ironic because our culture, when it sees a person upholding laws, the culture calls that person a Pharisee. So, for example, I’ve seen article after article calling Cardinal Burke a Pharisee for upholding the law of marriage. But such articles forget that Pharisees didn’t uphold marriage at all! This is the oddity of the Pharisees: they uphold certain laws, but not the divine ones—and even less do they live them out (as Jesus points out later). The Pharisees allowed divorce for pretty much whatever reason.

To call Cardinal Burke a Pharisee is therefore really rather ignorant. Our world is like the Pharisees. Many Christian ministers, for example, have become like our secular (read: oftentimes pagan) courts and allow divorce for whatever reason (Pharisaical), not remembering that “what God has joined, men must not divide.” They even go so far as to marry previously divorced people.

The papers write about how the Catholic Church is “opposed to divorce.” The reality is, we simply don’t have the power to undo what God has joined.

Clearly, we are dealing with the first transformation here: from the pagan to the People of God.

The question may be asked: then what about annulments? Obviously, this is a question that requires more than a homily to answer, but the principle for them is found in the Gospel when Jesus notes “unless the marriage is unlawful”—implied: an unlawful marriage is not joined by God; it is null. (Hence “annulment”).

When Jesus talks about a marriage being unlawful, it is understood that He is speaking about those who are going through the first transformation: that is, about pagans who have entered the Jewish faith but have three, four, or possibly even more wives. Anything beyond the first is unlawful. That’s what Jesus is talking about. Or when someone was forced to marry—that’s unlawful. The Catholic Church simply applies the principle Jesus gave. So, if someone enters into marriage with no intention of being faithful—then, yes, that could be a problem. But that’s different than someone “falling” out of love. The marriage is lawful—meaning, God has joined it—and man cannot divide that. Here, the second transformation is imperative: “love one another as I have loved you.”

*          *          *

Here we arrive, then, at the primo problem of our culture. The problem is not only that our culture does not embrace the first transformation (law), but precisely because it no longer embraces law, it no longer understands love. Love, in our culture, is erroneously reconciled with killing an infant or an elderly person. But that’s not love!—we cannot both love and kill a person. Love, in our culture, is erroneously reconciled with disregarding the Sabbath (“I don’t need religion to love God”); and so on. The “love” that our culture passes off is a contradictory house built on sand.

This is why our Lord has come. This is why our culture needs a Cardinal Burke out there. For both law and love are united in Jesus. This Jesus who comes to transform us in both. Hence: “I have come not to abolish the law, but to fulfill” and “unless your righteousness exceeds that the of the Pharisees”—in sum “love one another as I have loved you” and “Blessed are they who follow the law of the Lord.”

So, we who struggle with sins against the law and against charity—it is for us that the Lord has come: “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” He wants to transform us. That’s His business. That’s His saving grace. And He is making that offer to you today.

Our Lady of Lourdes - Homily for 1st Solemn High Mass

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Flores apparuérunt in terra nostra. The flowers appear on the earth.

These words are from the Song of Songs and we heard them sung this morning during the Gradual. They tell us that as Jesus approaches, the winter comes to an end. As Jesus passes by, it is as though His every step melts the snow and He frees the flowers that were somehow hidden underneath. The flowers appear on the earth.

At the heart of the apparitions of Our Lady of Lourdes is the miracle of the spring, the flowing waters that renew the earth. Holy Mary asked Bernadette to kneel and in faith to dig beneath the surface of the Grotto. As Bernadette acted in faith, the pure waters came forth and that which was hidden underneath became visible.

The spring would prove miraculous and a source of healing for many—the snow and winter of illness would melt away and the joy of health in body and soul would bloom.

Since Bernadette’s child-like trust in Mary’s love, thousands if not millions of pilgrims have visited the shrine at Lourdes. I am blessed to be one of them.

And I have found that there are two ways to visit this (and every Marian) shrine: the first is from faith, that humble approach that may not necessarily understand all of the mystery, but which believes something is there; and which so opens itself in receptivity for whatever God has in store for it. The experience is peaceful and often sublime.

The second way is everything else: the curious approach that comes to take something away and a picture of the event; the simply rational approach that comes to solve a mystery; the modern approach that wants a miracle on-demand and leaves wondering why it didn’t happen for them.

For ourselves, I know that there are many who are here who are attending their first Solemn High Mass. For me, I am offering it for the very first time. It is very beautiful and yet a very interesting thing. So much seems to be hidden beneath the surface. Indeed, many will at some point say, “I’m lost. Where are we? I don’t understand." This is totally ok and should be expected—for are we not celebrating “divine mysteries”?

The key is to approach with a faith that is ok and humbled by hidden-ness. That is to say: to spend time at this Holy Mass not trying to simply understand it and in a way conquer it, or even less to be like a tourist that tells Facebook friends of the novelty—but to say to Jesus, “I trust you. Even though I do not understand. I know you are here. And I am here with you. I long to see your face.”

In this way, the waters of Lourdes heal us even now; for they remind us of Bernadette’s simple, child-like faith that trusted in the Motherly guidance of Mary, and which in turn led to the opening and freeing of the miraculous spring. Yes, there is something hidden beneath the surface here. And it is faith that tells us that as Jesus approaches, what is hidden shall soon be seen: The flowers appear on the earth.

Light in the Cosmos - Homily for the 5th Sunday in OT (A)

This homily borrows heavily from Peter Kreeft's Lecture, "Lost in the Cosmos"

On the ancient temple of Apollo at Delphi there was an inscription made famous by Socrates: it said: “Know Thyself.” This inscription presupposed two questions: first, who are you? And, second, how would you know who you are?

*          *          *

In our modern world, it is a strange paradox that many people know more about the arts and sciences than they do about themselves. Some astronomers, for example, know more about the universe than they do their soul. The same can be said of any profession, really. What is interesting is that, today, many people know more about current events than they do themselves. Many can tell you all about the complicated dynamics of the Middle East, but when asked whether they have a soul, they respond: “I don’t know.”

Often, we in the modern world think we are smarter than those who came before us. Ancients, for example, made the mistake of trying to understand the cosmos by myths instead of science. They turned things (like the sea) into persons and so personalized the universe. We know better: the sea is a thing, not a person. But modern man took those conclusions too far and deduced that persons are simply things.

This deduction overlooked a very simple truth that we learned as children, that while there are similarities between things and persons, there is also a fundamental difference: a Person is a “you,” a “me”—and not simply an “it.”  We are a part of nature—and there is something about us that is separate from it—something that is super-natural (literally, something above the regular order of “things”).

And so Jesus tells us: “You are the light of the world.” This is not simply a moral exhortation. It is also a statement about who we are. You are the light of the world—you are not simply another object or another thing in the world. Indeed, there is something about you that illuminates the world. Hence, you are its light.

The discovery of who you are, therefore, is predicated upon having a way to illuminate the illumination. We need more than the scientific method to tell us who we are, because that can only tell us about the natural side of things. We need a way of thinking that can know the supernatural light found in Persons. This higher way of thinking is called wisdom.

It is wisdom that helps us to know who we are. It is wisdom that tells us “You are the light of the world.” It is wisdom we are looking for when we are trying to process, understand, and judge current events. However, it is precisely wisdom that is lacking in our world. Because many lack wisdom, many see the human person and the solutions to his problems as a great unknown.

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In his fictional book, “Lost in the Cosmos,” Walker Percy weaves a tale of a post-apocalyptic world where a remnant of humanity departs Earth in a space craft towards the system Alpha-Centauri, looking for a new home. Upon reaching the system, the space craft is told to halt. The Alpha-Centaurians wish to judge the danger that the Earthlings may pose to them.

In their wisdom, Alpha-Centaurians have found that the cosmos contains three species of intelligence which they call C-1s, C-2s, and C-3s. C-1s are innocent, unfallen, and harmless. C-2s are fallen—alienated from themselves, God, each other, and nature, and prone to selfishness, competition, and violence. C-3s are simply C-2s but who have come to know themselves, become of aware of their predicament, and asked for help—C-3s realize the need for repentance, and humility—which is the beginning of wisdom.

The Alpha-Centaurians determine through some significant and probing questions that Earthlings are not C-1s. Then they ask: “Have you asked for help?” The Earthlings have no idea what that could mean. Then the Alpha-Centaurians realize that the Earthings are C-2s, not C-3s. Permission to land is denied. The last humans die in orbit.

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I tell that story not as an attempt to address the immigration issue by some kind of back door. Rather, it is an attempt to address all of our current issues: gender confusion, the definition of marriage, the determination of when life begins, the world’s tendency towards war… All of these stem from a fundamental misunderstanding of who we are precisely because it is wisdom—that supernatural help to our supernatural person—that has been rejected by modern man.

The modern-day philosopher Peter Kreeft rightly points out: the road to hell is not paved with good intentions, but with self-help—to say, “I don’t need a Savior, I don’t need anyone telling me what I need to do. I don’t need anyone telling me who I am.” And that’s a bad position to be in because another wise man, Jesus Christ, said ““I didn’t come to call the righteous, I came to call sinners.” Wisdom reminds us, therefore, that the only people that Jesus didn’t come to save are those who think they don’t need saving. Ironically, those are precisely the ones who are lost.

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When I consider, therefore, the current issues and surrounding world reaction, I turn to wisdom and she counsels me, saying: “Fear not him who is only able to destroy the body. I will tell you who to fear: fear him who is able to destroy both body and soul in hell.” In other words, do not fear the bombs of terrorism—for bombs only destroy the body. Rather, fear the philosophies of this world that lead to the destruction of the soul.

I mean not to take anything away from those authentic and productive conversations that are being had concerning immigration and other civic matters, but I think Americans—and really, the world—at large should be all the more concerned about its blind assimilation of philosophies and moralities that are foreign to our dignity and which extinguish our supernatural light (or, as Jesus notes: salt losing its flavor). The most destructive of which are secularism, doubt, and practical atheism. These are the bombs that are destroying souls.  And these are particularly insidious because they aren’t, for the most part, carried in by terrorists or immigrants—they are carried in by high school and university professors. And sometimes, God forgive us, by priests and parents and close friends.

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You are the light of the world. This means, 1) you have a supernatural dignity that can only be revealed and known by a higher order of knowledge called wisdom. And 2) this light will point out to the world the narrow way through our current problems—and that the ways is indeed narrow and that to navigate it successfully, humanity needs supernatural light, needs wisdom, needs God. In other words, we need to ask for help. This asking is called prayer and is accompanied by the humility of repentance. You’ll notice that this approach is dramatically different than the riots, rash judgments, and emotional reactions swirling out there. Wisdom is a light shining in the darkness—and that is who you are. Wisdom for the Gentiles, light of the world.

In a particular way, I pray for our youth, that you will surround yourselves with good friends whose light of faith is bright. I pray that our Lord protects you from secularism. And I pray that He give you the fortitude of the Holy Spirit to let your light shine before all to see—and especially when the world has grown dark.