The Jubilee - Gaudete Sunday

 From 2020....

In ancient Jewish practice, there was something called the Year of Jubilee. The Year of Jubilee would take place every 49 years and during that year anyone who was in debt would be forgiven of that debt; slaves would be let free; if your family had lost its heritage, your homeland would be returned to you; and fields would be at rest. The reason for the number 49 is the connection to the seventh day of creation—that is, the Sabbath, the Day of Rest—multiplied by seven (7x7=49). In other words, this Jubilee Year is the Sabbath of Sabbaths; the Rest of Rest; the Peace of Peace; the Joy of Joys. 

It is the Jubilee Year that Isaiah proclaims this morning when he says: “The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me”—Isaiah then announces the Year of Jubilee: “he has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the LORD.” 

Over time, the practice of the Jubilee Year disappeared. It became a sort of sentimental relic of the past (“… ahh, the old days…”) or a impossible ideal only attainable by the trumpet blast announcing heaven and its Eternal Rest and Joy. 

Several centuries later, however, when Jesus begins His public ministry—that is, after the Spirit of the Lord comes upon Him when He is baptized by John; and after Jesus’ battle with the devil in the desert—Jesus goes to His hometown in Nazareth. There, at Nazareth, He enters the synagogue and begins to teach them by reading from a scroll. 

The passage that He reads—of all of the passages Jesus could have chosen—the one that He reads is this: 

The spirit of the Lord is upon me…. He has sent me to bring glad tidings… [and] to announce a year of favor from the LORD. 

Jesus was announcing the Year of Jubilee. But the people of Nazareth would have received those words simply with the sentimental, “remember those days?” sort of way. They don’t believe Jesus is actually announcing an actualYear of Jubilee. 

But then Jesus shocks them by saying, 

These words are fulfilled in your hearing. 

In other words, yes: Jesus is announcing the Jubilee Year—not a sentimental past, nor an idealized future heaven. But, now. Now is the Year of Jubilee. And not simply a paying of monetary debts, but the paying of more expensive debts (“the wages of sin”) by giving mercy and forgiveness; nor the release from iron chains, but from that worse slavery which is to the devil and to death. Jesus literally comes to bring freedom and rest and joy 

                        I came that you may have life and have it more abundantly. 

It is fitting that Jesus began the annunciation of the Jubilee Year in His hometown, Nazareth (“what good can come from Nazareth?”). And you would think that the people there would have been overjoyed. 

Instead, they grumble, saying: “Isn’t this the son of Joseph, the carpenter?” 

(Good job, Nazareth, keeping the stereotype alive!)

Jesus responds by telling them about the many times that God healed foreigners (like the leper, Naaman, the Syrian) but did not heal the children of Israel—for the children of Israel did not believe. In fact, they persecuted the prophets (“no prophet is accepted in his native place”). 

Jesus is telling his own people of Nazareth that not only are they just like all of the other towns of the past, and not only is He is in the line of prophets, but also that the true joy of the Jubilee Year will not be theirs (it will only be a sentimental relic or an impossible ideal) precisely because of their hardness of heart. 

John the Baptist had said, “Prepare the way of the Lord. Make straight his paths.” Why? Because the Lord, Jesus, was bringing the Jubilee Year. He was bringing great gifts of freedom and mercy and joy. This preparation required not only repentance, but it also meant “making straight” (from the word "ortho" to make straight-- from which we get the word orthodoxy (straight teaching))—and thus having an openness of heart where God could quicklyenter. Not by winding roads, but straight to the heart!

The people of Nazareth were slow. And unrepentant. They did not heed John. And, as a result, on hearing Jesus’ words—words of freedom and joy, mind you!—they violently lay hands on Jesus and bring Him to the brow of the hill to throw Him over the cliff. He escapes, but it will be the last time He is there. 

As a contrast to the people of Nazareth, the readings offer us a reflection on Mary’s heart. Mary is the one spoken of in the second half of Isaiah’s reading. There, it says: 

I rejoice heartily in the Lord, in my God is the joy of my soul; for he has clothed me with a robe of salvation and wrapped me in a mantle of justice… like a bride bedecked with her jewels. 

That’s Mary! But why does Mary rejoice heartily? Because she has received Jesus in her womb, yes. But we receive Jesus into our bodies in the Eucharist. So, perhaps there is more to it. 

A lot of it has to do with her disposition. Yes, she was prepared by God and so had no need of repentance—being without sin does open us to joy. But also, Mary was open to whatever God’s plan was. “Let it be done to me,” she said, “according to your will.” She wanted what God wanted. 

The joy comes, then, not only when she gives birth (thereis joy there, of course!), but the joy continues when she visits Elizabeth. Do you remember the story? It is called the Visitation. Mary visits Elizabeth. They are both pregnant. The Holy Spirit comes from Jesus and Mary and descends upon Elizabeth and upon John in her womb. And he dances. And Elizabeth rejoices. And Mary sees: she sees that freedom and joy have been brought by Jesus in her womb: the Jubilee really is here! 

Mary then, in that very moment when she sees, Mary exclaims the words we heard in the “psalm” today: 

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked up his lowly servant. … He has remembered his promise of mercy. 

Mary recognizes the Jubilee and rejoices in it. 

To be joyful, therefore, means a two-fold movement in our souls. First, we must be sorry for our sins and repent of them, as John says and as Mary is. And, second, we must be open to do whatever God wants. 

Here, I think of a woman to whom I was recently introduced. Her name is Claire Crockett. 

Claire was born in 1982 in Northern Ireland, so she’s a year younger than I am. She was an actress on Nickelodeon and was becoming pretty popular. She had an easy time getting boyfriends. And she loved to party and she loved to drink and to smoke. And she was a total jokester. Yet, for all of that, she would go back to her hotel and the end of the day’s filming and feel empty. 

On one particular Good Friday, a friend of hers invited her to the Good Friday service—which is where you have a chance to kiss the Cross. Claire saw everyone doing it and so she thought she might as well, too. When she did this, this simple act of being open—even half-open—to God, grace poured upon her soul like rain. She started wondering if this was what she was looking for. 

She talked with the priest and she went to confession and began to live by a simple premise in life: To do whatever God wants. 

She started changing. And some of her friends noticed. One of them said, making fun of her: “Claire, if you keep this up, you’ll become a nun!” 

Claire—with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other—took a puff from her cigarette and said, “Well, if that is what God wants, then I’ll become a nun.” 

They all laughed. But Claire was changing. And she put away the drunkenness and the cigarettes and she started praying and helping with the kids. And she became radiant and joyful. And yeah, she became a religious sister. And you can see clips of her on youtube—and you can tell: she found the difference between pleasure and joy. 

In repenting of her sins and being open to whatever God wanted, Claire Crockett had found the freedom and the mercy of Jesus. She had found the Jubilee. 

And that is what I proclaim to you today. Mercy is offered to you who are sorry. And freedom and joy are yours who are open to whatever God wants. And that’s what God will lead you to—for He desires to give you mercy and freedom and joy! He Himself is the Jubilee!

The Immaculate Conception (2023)

 This is such a beautiful Solemnity, such a wonderful celebration!

But what is it that we celebrate today?

We hear it in Gabriel the Archangel's greeting to Mary. He doesn't say, "Hello, Mary." He says, "Hail." "Hail, full of grace."

We know these words well from the Hail Mary we say so often. But that word, "Hail"-- attend to it for a moment. ... It is the salutation for a King or a Queen. Already at this moment, even before Mary receives Jesus in her womb, Mary is a Queen.

And doubly odd is that Gabriel doesn't say, "Hail, Queen Mary." He says, "Hail, full of grace." The Archangel Gabriel says this because he is revealing what God has done in Mary's life. Not only has God made Mary a Queen, but the Father, in His beautiful plan, has also made her "full of grace."

Which means there is no sin in her at all. She is immaculate -- from the Latin im + macula -- meaning: without stain, without blemish or sin.

Mary is the Queen, full of grace, who Gabriel greets and to whom the plan of the Father's love is now revealed: She will "conceive and bear a Son and He shall be named Jesus."

Many may wonder why the Annunciation is read on the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception. (Many after all, confuse the immaculate conception of Mary with the conception of Jesus at the Annunciation). The Annunciation is read today because it reveals what God has done in Mary's life, who she is, and what the Father is about to do. It is a triple annunciation. 

*

 When did Mary become the Queen full of grace? 

It began at her conception. 

She was conceived in the womb of Anne, her mom. Remember: Joachim and Anne are Mary's parents. And the immaculate conception is when Mary is conceived in Anne's womb -- at which moment, the heavenly Father, seeing and knowing all things, and knowing that His Son would offer Himself on the Cross for the salvation of the world -- the Father takes those graces from the Cross (which is present to Him because all times are present to Him) and He applies them to Mary. The word for this is "prevenient" grace. And it is a grace that prevents Mary from bearing the stain of original sin.

Mary is conceived immaculate, full of grace.

*

Some may feel a little envy about this: why does Mary get such a gift? 

Do not be too quick to envy.

After all, when you were baptized, reborn in those mystical waters of rebirth, was not original sin washed away from your soul? Yes, absolutely! At the moment of your baptism, you were as clean as clean could be! 

So, while you were not biologically conceived free of sin, you were sacramentally made so!

And if you have sullied your baptismal garment through sin, the Father in His plan of sheer goodness has given you yet another Sacrament, what the ancients called "Second Baptism" -- the Sacrament of Confession. 

Do you not know that, when you confess and are absolved of your sins, the Father restores your soul to its purity and innocence that you enjoyed at your baptism?

In fact, it must be this way. For, after all, in heaven, can there be any sin? Of course not! Can there be any stain or spot or wrinkle? No. In heaven, everything is immaculate. You must be made immaculate before you can get to heaven! And so, what a grace for these Sacraments.

*

Here, we see a two-fold gift -- an early Christmas gift! -- in this great celebration. 

First, we see how beautiful the Sacraments are and how generous is God's plan for our salvation. (He didn't have to do this! He could have left us all in the darkness and misery of sin and death! But has given us grace upon grace!) 

The Father prepares Mary to be the Temple in which His Son shall dwell. God dwells in holy places, after all. He dwells here in this holy parish church. And soon, He will dwell in your soul by means of the Eucharist. How important confession is to make us ready to receive Him. How beautiful is Baptism and Confession and Eucharist -- a kind of triple annunciation!

The second gift we receive in this great celebration is our Mother -- a beautiful mother; a mother so pure and gentle and holy and good; who is also Queen. Men look for a beauty to serve; here, men, we have the most beautiful woman. And she is a model of holiness for everyone, an advocate, an intercessor of grace for us: "Heavenly Father," our Lady and Queen prays, "free them from sin. Draw them to your Son's Sacred Heart."

How beautiful it is: that God the Father not only gives us His Son, He gives us a Mother. 

*

For me, this renews my love of the Hail Mary and the Rosary. It is such a wonder and a gift: I get to say the same words that the Archangel said! "Hail Mary, full of grace!"

And what is the next line? 

"The Lord is with you."

Yes, yes He is. Right here, coming to us in the Eucharist. Let us praise the Father, with Mary, praising Him for "He who is mighty has done great things. And holy is His Name!"

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

A Confessor's Confession - Homily for the 21st Sunday in OT (A)

 In February of next year, I will be leading a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. You are invited. 

A pilgrimage is a very blessed time and a special opportunity of grace. When I went to the Holy Land in 2020, I was able to visit Caesarea Philippi, the northernmost city of Jesus' public ministry, and I was able to go to where this morning's Gospel takes place. In that spot, Peter would have seen two things.

First, he would have seen the headwaters of the Jordan River. Snowmelt from Mount Hebron and the mountains to the north flow southward thru Caesarea and, at the spot where Jesus asks for Peter's confession, the waters are a flowing stream with little waterfalls. It is a beautiful spot -- and spiritual place, too, given that these are the origins of waters where Jesus would be baptized.

The second thing that Peter would have seen was a large, dark cave. For the pagan peoples, this cave was believed to be the doorway to hell -- to Hades. As Jesus says the words, "And the gates of the netherworld will not prevail," He would have literally been able to point to that cave. It was also the place where hedonistic rituals were held in honor of Pan.

The contrast would have been striking. The waters of mercy on the right; the darkness of evil on the left.

It is here that Jesus asks Peter: "Who do you say that I am?"

When Peter responds, "You are the Christ!" Jesus praises Peter's confession and rewards him with "the keys to the kingdom of heaven." And Jesus tells him: "Whatever you bind [that is, lock] on earth, is bound in heaven. And whatever you loose [unlock] on earth, is unlocked in heaven."

The gift is unusual. (Who gives someone keys as a reward?) But there is a history to this gift. In the Old Testament, the King of Israel would possess a key on a neck-chain. When the King would depart from his kingdom, whether on a military campaign or to advance trade relations, etc, he would give the key to the steward, the second in command. That steward, then, would possess all of the rights and responsibilities in the kingdom that the King had. While the King was away, the steward could open the kingdom's treasuries of gold or of grain; he could set weights and measures; he could lock or unlock cities. The steward was not the King, but he was endowed with the King's powers. Lest that power go to the steward's head, when the King returned, the steward would need to give an account of the stewardship.

So, when Jesus, the King of Kings, gives Peter the keys to the kingdom of heaven, Jesus is raising Peter to the second-in-command. Later on, the King will depart this earth at the ascension; Peter will then be the one in command, with the powers of the King, until Jesus returns on the Last Day.

Part of those powers, to bind and to loose, means that Jesus has given Peter power to forgive sins (for what else can Jesus' words mean when He says, "whatever you bind on earth is bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth is loosed in heaven"?). 

Here, we arrive at a question I often receive from my Protestant brothers and sisters -- and even from some Catholics: "Why must I confess my sins to a priest ... to a man?"

The answer is found by asking another question: "Did God need Noah in order to save Noah's family from the flood?"

Did God need Noah?

Of course not. God is all-powerful. God could have built an ark Himself. He didn't need Noah.

And yet, He employs the help of Noah.

We can also ask: Did God need Moses in order to save Israel, to convince Pharaoh, to part the Red Sea and so on? Of course not. God could have done it on His own.

And yet, He employs the help of Moses.

Did God need David ... or the prophets ... in order to lead Israel, to pre-announce the coming Messiah, to exhort people to repentance and "making straight the ways of the Lord"? Of course not! God could have said all of this from the clouds -- as He does elsewhere -- and He could have ruled from the heavens. He didn't need David or any of the Kings or any of the prophets.

In fact, many of those kings got in the way!

And yet....

And yet God uses these men to rule Israel and to announce the coming Kingdom.

Even the Apostles and Peter -- Jesus doesn't need them. He could have done it all Himself. Held the keys Himself.

And yet ... He gives the keys to Peter -- Peter who is not the holiest man around, Peter who sticks his foot in his mouth, Peter who "thinks like men and not like God."

So, why? Why does Jesus do this? Why does He employ as confessors men in need of confession?

The second reading:

Oh, the depth of riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How inscrutable are his judgments and how unsearchable his ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord...?

 

For me, I have found it fitting that God employs men to forgive sins. And here is why: when we sin, we sin not only against God, but also against men.

When you are driving down I-55 and someone cuts you off and you then decide to pull along side that son-of-a-gun and give them a one-fingered salute -- you may feel better for a moment. But maybe they cut you off by accident; maybe their child just threw up in the car. And now you have just further ruined their day. And you may feel bad about that. And you keep driving and may never see them again.

How are you going to be reconciled not only to that person, but to all of the effects that your action has on humanity, like that ripple in a lake after a stone has been thrown? Who will be the representative for humanity?

It is the priest.

By definition, the priest stands in the breach as the representative of God to men and as the representative of men to God -- and sometimes of men to men. When the priest absolves you, he "looses" you from what you owe God; but he also looses what you have owed humanity.

At the heart of this is the Incarnational Principle: that God became man and dwelt among us. And that God still uses men to deliver His divine mercy.

Even though those men, like the kings of the Old Testament, are often themselves in need of confession.

In fact, it's because I have needed confession throughout my life that I can say to you, When you come to confession, and you tell me, "Father, it's been a long time" or "Father, shoot, I got some really bad ones today" and you feel ashamed and embarrassed -- I tell you, I've been there. I've been on the other side of the screen, hoping for mercy. 

And so when you come to confession, know that you won't get judgment from me. You'll get admiration -- because I know it takes courage to confession to God and to a man.

It's also why the confessional is one of the most miraculous and amazing places for me -- to see someone come in feeling so ashamed, so enslaved by so great a weight ... and to see those chains fall off as they confess, to feel free again, and to have that new start, being right with God and men again ... it's why I was ordained. And it is truly awesome. 

Many Protestants, when they become Catholic, say that the Sacrament of Reconciliation (confession) is the best kept secret and the greatest treasure of Catholicism. "More people need to know about this!" they say to me.

There's one more thing.

Jesus asked Peter -- Peter, who would become a priest and hear people's confessions -- Jesus asked Peter, a confessor, for his confession: "Who do you say that I am?"

As for me, I find that when we go to confession, we are giving answer to that question.

Lord, you are the Son of God. Your wisdom is deep. Your mind inscrutable. You have given the keys of mercy to the lowest of sinners. And I find that profound. Truly, your ways are not my ways. But you are God. And I am not. ... What a gift to be able to unlock mercy in your most holy Name!

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

Finding Rest in Mental Illness - 14th Sunday in OT (A)

Several years ago, during my seventh year of priesthood, I started to develop an anxiety disorder and depression. It runs in my family and I thought that, as I was in my mid-thirties and not showing the major signs as some members of my family had, that perhaps I had escaped mental illness. But then during my seventh year of priesthood, I started developing panic attacks. And they would almost always happen at Mass. You see, not only was I stressed out from the work of being a priest. I also dreaded preaching. 

It wasn’t always like that. When I first became a priest, I had great excitement about preaching. I thought, “I get to inspire so many people! It’s going to be awesome!” But after seven years, I learned that not everyone wants to hear the truth or likes the truth. I learned that not everyone has a sense of humor. I learned that many people have unreasonable expectations. And I learned that not everyone is mentally healthy. Put that all together and I started to see that preaching was dangerous. 

And that danger made me restless. Anxious. And as I started to doubt whether I was making a difference, it became dreadful. 

I even started to think that Jesus’ words about the “yoke being easy” was a lie. To take a page from Father Schroeder’s puns: I felt that the yoke was on me. 

I carried on like that for about three years. Then the pandemic hit. People started talking more about mental health. And going to counseling didn’t seem to have the stigma that it once did, so that’s what I did. I went to counseling and started seeing a good Catholic therapist.

Let me take a quick detour in this story. 

In my days at seminary, I had learned that the human person is comprised of his intellect, his will, and his passions (or emotions and appetites). The intellect was made to arrive clearly at the true and the good; the will was made to follow the decision of the intellect; and the passions were meant to serve that endeavor by providing strength and zeal. 

But with mental illness, the intellect is often broken, the will weak, and the emotions – well, they can be a mess. 

One of the more memorable lessons of my time in counseling was what I call the analogy of the rollercoaster. Imagine there are two people watching people ride a rollercoaster. Most people, when they watch a rollercoaster, will have one of two thoughts. They will say, “Wow! That’s looks exciting!” Or they will say, “Ugh! That looks dreadful!” 

In both cases, the rollercoaster has stirred something in them. It has actually stirred the same thing in them. They both see danger. The emotions have been piqued. Now comes the analysis of the intellect. Only one has come to the conclusion that in the danger there is an adventure worth going on. Only one sees a good and happy ending. How you see the ending will determine whether the stirring is anxiety or excitement. 

That’s one of the problems with having anxiety for a while. It keeps pressing on you, depressing you. And you start wondering whether anything good can come of going on the rollercoaster again. But you keep on getting stirred up. Life is dangerous. Every day, I had to face that danger and go to the pulpit to give a homily. It was my rollercoaster. 

Ok, back to the story. 

So, during one of my therapy sessions, my counselor gave me a great insight. “Father,” she said, “what if the emotion you are feeling which gives you anxiety is simply the same emotion that gives you excitement?” 

That is to say, once upon a time, I saw the pulpit as an exciting rollercoaster. During my panic attacks, I saw it as a dreadful one. What had changed? It wasn’t the rollercoaster. It wasn’t the danger. It was that I now knew the danger. I knew the weight Jesus’ yoke could have on my shoulders. 

My counselor challenged me. She said, “Go to Jesus and learn from Him.” 

In the storm, did Jesus freak out? What about when He was in front of Pilate? Or battling the devil? Did He get anxious when the crowd rejected Him? He was peaceful, restful through it all. And why? 

Because He loved His people. 

And He knew how it would end. 

And He knew He was loved by the Father. 

Those three things: He loved His people; He knew how it would end; and He knew He was loved – this would make the yoke easy and the burden light again. 

So, I took this to my chair at Mass. When I felt anxiety, I would have to remind myself, “Self, this is just a stirring. The same kind of stirring as before a rollercoaster. Sure, it is dangerous; but love is dangerous. Love always entails a risk. But it is exciting. I get to inspire people today. It will end well. There is glory and heaven. And through it all, the Father loves me.” 

I started praying differently. I used to pray: “Lord, please don’t let me make a mistake.” Now it’s “Lord, help me to laugh when I do.” 

I never thought I would have to intentionally practice good mental health. I just always presumed I would be mentally healthy. I never thought I would have to take medication for my brain -- or for cholesterol. But here we are.

And I’m thankful for it. I’d like to think it has made me more humble; and more compassionate to those with depression and anxiety and those who just struggle with daily tasks that so many of us take for granted as always being easy. 

In sum, I like to think it humbled me enough to finally come to Jesus in submission to His command: "Come to me." 

And when I came to Him, I discovered that coming to Him wasn't really a long distance, even though it felt like it. He was always there. The yoke wasn't strapped simply to my back, but to His as well.

The more I learn that from Him, the more I cast my worries upon Him, the more I find I can stand up here with excitement and not dread. 

That He has kept His promise that this would give me rest -- well, that has inspired me all the more to tell you about it.

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

Sparrows - 12th Sunday in OT (A)

You are worth more than many sparrows.

So there are many apps for your phone out there. Some interesting and productive; others not at all. Recently, I was introduced to Merlin. Merlin is an app that can identify a bird just by its song. Now, I'm not a bird guy (I've actually always thought that bird watchers were a little eccentric, forgive me), but I did find it fascinating that there was an app that could identify birds just by their song.

So I downloaded Merlin one evening and sat on my back patio with a beveragee and gave it a shot. Sure enough, it worked. And I was blown away by the number of birds just in my back yard: I've heard cardinals, house finches, mockingbirds, hawks, and sparrows -- lots of sparrows.

Since downloading the app, I have unconsciously trained my ear to hear the songs of birds and now I can identify several without using the app. And the bird that I hear the most of: sparrows. There are so, so many house sparrows around here. And at gas stations. I've noticed they like gas stations. (Hmm, I appear to have become eccentric).

Here's the thing: if one of those sparrows would die, I wouldn't notice. There are too many of them. Yet, Jesus says, "Not one of them falls to the ground without your Father's knowledge" (Mt 10:29). That's amazing to me, that God knows every sparrow -- and He knows them because each and every one of them is important to Him. He created each one.

Jesus then says: "You are worth more than many sparrows" (Mt 10:31). That is to say, if the heavenly Father should notice just one sparrow's death, and you are worth more than many sparrows, how much more will he notice you -- how terribly important you are to Him."

"Even all the hairs of your head have been counted" (Mt 10:30).

He knows what happened in the depths of the Atlantic this week. He knew each and every one of those men. Each one was terribly important to Him. He even know each and every hair on their head. And he knows yours. Each and every one.

My mind struggles to fathom this. But as I try to, I find a deep consolation. I am important to the Father.

***

In between all of these lines is a little phrase. Jesus says, "So do not be afraid" (Mt 10:30-31). Why does He say this?

Two reasons: because the world is dangerous; death can come at a moment's notice and at times seem arbitrary; things can look absurd, flimsy, meaningless. And because of all of that, we can easily become anxious and afraid. So, Jesus reassures us: Your life is not meaningless; and when you die (and we all will), it will be noticed by the Father.

A second reason why Jesus tells us not to be afraid: well, because when we think that our life or death is meaningless, when we think we are just another sparrow among a flock of sparrows, it is easy to just remain there. When I think my song is unimportant or unheard, I easily stop singing. Or, to flip the coin over, when everyone else is silent, I too can easily remain silent.

The low-hanging-fruit example is when it comes to witnessing to the faith. So, so many people are quiet when it comes to speaking about the faith. That Jesus is real. That He died and rose. That He founded the Catholic Church. That the Church, despite her warts and all, is still the treasure house of objective Truth and grace. That her voice is the voice of Jesus. And He speaks tenderly but firmly about things like how your must forgive if you want to be forgiven; you must repent of sin; the Eucharist is the greatest gift; marriage is between one man and one woman only; God only made two sexes, male and female; each is made in His image and therefore has inviolable dignity and cannot be willy-nilly destroyed as in euthanasia and abortion....

There are clearly more sparrows than blue jays out in this world. And the sparrows need to speak up a little more. And by sparrows, I mean you. And me.

And I know: we can be afraid. I'm afraid that if I speak the truth in clarity, will I be seen as unloving. Truth can be spoken in firmness and kindness; that is Love. Love wills the good of another. I want people to be free of the slavery which our social ills are causing. I speak, truly, from compassion.

Can I tell you something I have realized? 

I can be as gentle and compassionate as Jesus, but when it comes to speaking hard truths, many will not listen, just like many didn't listen to the gentle and compassionate Jesus.

And that is irksome to me. I believe that my sparrow-song is important. And gentle.

But to the world, I am just a sparrow. And annoying.

But my Father notices. And He loves hearing the song He has placed in my mouth. So I will not be afraid. I will keep on singing....

You are worth more than many sparrows.

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

Corpus Christi, 2023

When I was little, I loved being at church. It was a delight to the senses. When the people said the creed, it reminded me of thunder. When the older priest spoke in his deep but calm voice, I thought it was the voice of God. And when the ministers gave out holy communion, I had this belief that as they gave out one host from their ciborium, another one host would appear in its place.

I guess you could say that I’ve always known that something special was happening here. And, as I grew older, and I would read passages from the Sixth Chapter of John or the Eleventh Chapter of Saint Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians, I would take Jesus and the Apostles at their word. I wasn’t eating bread. I was receiving Jesus’ body and blood. Even the crowds that disagreed with Him at least knew that Jesus was being serious about His words.

 

Yet, even with all of that faith, I never really understood why there was the Holy Mass. It seemed to me, firstly, that it was about the priest changing bread and wine into Jesus and us receiving Jesus. And that’s true. But, if that is all that the Mass is about, why can’t the priest just make a lot of Jesus and then just kind of have a Chick-fil-A drive thru distribution line to receive Jesus?

So I thought, ok-ok, maybe there is something more to Holy Mass. Maybe Mass is about receiving Jesus and …  being taught. And so the readings and the homily. But that conclusion was unsatisfactory as well because, well, the preachers weren’t really good at preaching. I could easily leave church without getting anything out of it.

This is all to say that, even with faith, I always felt that there was something more to the Mass than just listening and eating.

 

And then, one day, I found it. I found the key to understand what the Holy Mass is.

It’s found right in the middle of Mass. The priest says:

Pray, brothers and sisters, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God the Almighty Father.

 And the people reply: 

May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands, for the praise and glory of His name, for our good and the good of all His Holy Church.           

At its very deepest, most essential level, the Holy Mass is a sacrifice. If we don’t understand that, we don’t understand the Mass. 

 

So, when the priest lifts up the host, he isn’t just showing it to everyone. He is lifting it up, offering Jesus, to the Father. 

The entire Triduum is present at the Mass. You have the Last Supper, where bread and wine are changed into Jesus. You have Good Friday, where Jesus offers Himself to the Father. And you have Easter Sunday in that, when you receive the Eucharist, you aren’t receiving a dead Jesus, you are receiving a living Jesus, in His glorified, resurrected body, a body which is hidden for now. 

The Holy Mass and the Holy Triduum are one and the same thing: they are both a Sacrifice of Jesus Christ, the High Priest, offered to the Father for our good and the good of all the Holy Church. 

 

This changed everything for me. Because, you see, I believed that God gave me everything. I believed that there was more to religion than just being taught something. I believed that there had to be a way that we could express the totality of our thanks and our sorrows, our hopes and our fears; a way to express our worship of the transcendent God and a way to express our utmost regret for sin; … 

And nothing-- no offering, no sacrifice of religion – could express that totality. That is, until I realized that our religion was offering Jesus, God, under the appearance of bread and wine, yet nevertheless present in His totality (body, blood, soul, and divinity) to the Father – Jesus, the only one who could express that totality and do so perfectly on my behalf and in a way that was acceptable to God the Almighty Father. That’s the sacrifice at our hands. 

That’s the definitive, perfect, and highest sacrifice God has given you and me to offer in praise and worship of Him. 

That’s the Holy Mass. 

And I believe that it matters to God. Even more than a child's work of art matters to a parent that places that child's art on the fridge. Sacrifices matter to God. It's why the First Holy Mass, given at the Last Supper, came with a holy command: Do this.

In the Octave of Pentecost ... (2023)

As we venture past the Easter Season, the Gospels this week have been rather striking to me; for the past three weeks, we have been walking with Jesus from the Upper Room and into Gethsemane, listening to Him, hearing His prayer -- but now we see Him doing miracles. And that is rather striking. We are reminded of how His public ministry began: at His baptism in the Jordan, the Holy Spirit descended upon Him, not because Jesus needed the Holy Spirit, but for our benefit: that we would know the Holy Spirit was with Him. Shortly thereafter, he arrives in His hometown, Nazareth, where He enters the synagogue, and pulls a scroll from Isaiah which says, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He has anointed me, to bring glad tiding to the poor ... and to announce a year of favor for the Lord."

Jesus brings the Holy Spirit with Him and it is by the power of the Holy Spirit that He cures such people as Bartimaeus. It is the Holy Spirit who accompanies Mary at the Visitation. And Elizabeth, when she hears Mary's greeting, is also filled with the Holy Spirit. John the baptism, still in her womb, is sanctified by the Holy Spirit. And Mary and Elizabeth, seeing what the Holy Spirit has been doing in their lives (see the pregnant bump!), rejoice in the Holy Spirit.

In former days, we used to have what was called an Octave of Pentecost. It was one of the mini-seasons like the Triduum, or the days before Christmas (which we call the days of the O Antiphons). We have the twelve days of Christmas and the Octave of Easter. The Church, in Her wisdom, once had eight days -- an octave -- celebrating the gift of the Holy Spirit and the gifts which He brings (much like celebrating the gifts Jesus brings at Christmas). But whereas at Christmas we celebrated the coming of the Second Person of the Trinity, here we celebrate the Advent of the Third.

In former days, too, the Sundays after Pentecost were not numbered as, for example, the Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time. Rather, it would be the First Sunday after Pentecost (Trinity Sunday). Every Sunday was numbered in relation to Pentecost. The Second Sunday after Pentecost, the Third, and so on. 

The Church understood that we lived in the days of the Holy Spirit -- the Spirit who comes not simply to save, but to sanctify. It is by His power that we can become holy, saints (from the Latin: sanctus, meaning holy). It is by His power that martyrs can give witness to Jesus unto death and receive the crown of glory (as we see in the case of St. Justin -- a contemporary of Saint John, the Beloved Apostle).

It is important, then, that we do not simply go from Easter to Ordinary Time -- as if these days were Ordinary. They are full with the power of the Holy Spirit! -- the Spirit of Truth, which sets us free. The Spirit that convicts us of sin and which pours through the Church's priests in the power of the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

Well before the Second Vatican Council and the liturgical changes that happened after it, the Church was already battling a kind of iconoclasm -- that is, the destruction of images and symbols.

Images and symbols are important. Destroy them and you hurt the faith of those who see what the symbols represent. And, beyond that, destroy the faith and you destroy the community. Case in point: if we saw the destruction of the American Flag (and there are many these days who would do it), that destruction of the symbol of our country would destroy and would be an indicator of the destruction of the ground on which this country has been built; as a result, there would also be a ripping apart of the country. Communities and faith are built upon the symbolic. So when the symbolic is lost, so is the community of faith.

It is one of the reasons why we have emptier pews that years past. The solution is not found in fancy programs or strategic initiatives -- as necessary as they are to prune the vine so as to produce more fruit. Rather, the solution is found in the recovery of the symbolic.

Take, for example, the Easter Candle. One of the coolest things I have seen in our Holy Mass was, when I was celebrating the Solemnity of the Ascension in the ancient use. During the Gospel, as the Deacon proclaimed that Jesus ascended into heaven, a server came to the Easter candle and extinguished it.

The natural question was: why did this happen?

The symbol of the extinguished candle was clear: Jesus is the light of the world. And that the Ascension, that light was taken away.

And it would forever be taken away -- unless, and until the moment that, the Holy Spirit came upon the Apostles as tongues of fire, relighting the candle, casting fire upon the earth.

I found that awesome.

We did lose something when we took away the symbolic numbering of Sundays in relation to Pentecost and turned them into days of "Ordinary Time." 

Ordinary. It is about as inspiring as a white-washed protestant church.

And that's the problem. Can we be surprised at a loss of faith and the community when we describe our religion and our time as ordinary? Catholic Churches are known for their sacred art, their smells, their bells, their vestments. There is nothing ordinary about them. 

Strangely, they manifest to the senses the Incarnational reality that God, who is spirit, became flesh. The senses are important. And the Holy Spirit came upon the flesh and its senses at Pentecost -- elevated them, sanctified them, and everything about them: the people, the place, and the time.

These are the days of the power of the Holy Spirit, God, the Third Person of the Trinity. To Him be all glory forever. Amen.

The Comforter, the Best - Pentecost 2023

A very blessed Pentecost Sunday to you!

I have a question for you that I want you to walk around in this week. The question is this: 

Where do you find your comfort?

What gives you peace? and rest? ... that place where things make sense and everything is going to be ok? Where do you find your comfort?

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Many years ago, in my first summer as a priest, it seemed like for a solid week I was plagued by the desire to go swing dancing. I had enjoyed swing dancing when I was in high school and college, but those days were past. I was a priest and I felt that going swing dancing (with a woman) was now inappropriate. Nevertheless, the distractions in prayer came. It was uncomfortable. And so I said to Jesus, "Here is what is distracting me. Please turn it into grace for whoever needs it."

Later that week, I had an older gentleman knock on the door to the rectory. He was in his late 70s and looked downcast.. He said, "Father, will you hear my confession?" Absolutely. "Father," he said, it's been 70 years since my last confession." I was floored.

Now, I can't tell you his sins because of the Seal of Confession (and, also, because I don't remember them). But I do remember and I can tell you that, after he confessed his sins and I gave him absolution, his shoulders relaxed and his face grew brighter. 

Lord, send out your Spirit. And renew the face of the earth.

The man's face had joy written all over it. He had been renewed. And comforted.

As he departed, I noticed he was wearing a pin on his lapel. I asked him what it was. "Oh, he said, that was a gift from my students. I was a dance instructor."

Now it was my turn to be comforted: I realized why I had suffered. It was for him. -- And what a comfort it is to see the will of God playing out right before my very eyes!

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One of the titles for the Holy Spirit is the Comforter, the Best. We sang this in our opening hymn, "Come Holy Ghost" and in the Sequence.

When things make sense, and when there is the tranquility of order (which is the very stuff of peace), we experience comfort. This is what the Holy Spirit brings.

And note carefully when Jesus gives the Holy Spirit. Yes, at Pentecost. But He also gives the Holy Spirit on Easter Sunday, in the evening, when the Apostles are in the Upper Room. They had abandoned Jesus and were afraid -- not only of the Jews, but also of His return; for, if He was the Messiah, they had indeed left Him. What would He do?

And so Jesus says, "Peace be with you." He breathes on them (the Latin word for breath is "spiritus"; respire; inspire; Spirit) and He forgives them.

What a comfort!

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There is also another time when Jesus gives the Holy Spirit. 

When He is on the Cross, He says many things: "I thirst," and "Father forgive them..." And then, when He breathes (spiritus) His last, He hands over His Spirit.

There is something important going on here -- a connection between the Cross and the Spirit. He is showing the power of the Cross -- that when we offer our suffering to the Father, in the Spirit, for the redemption of the world, that spiritual prayer of suffering is heard and is powerful.

It renews the face of the earth.

I tell my homebound and the infirm in hospitals: "You are sitting on a winning lottery ticket. You just need to cash it in." Tell Jesus, "Jesus, here is my suffering. I give it to you. Turn it into grace for someone out there."

I tell the homebound that they are like monks in monasteries -- when they make such a prayer, they will give birth to many vocations.

I tell the infirm in hospitals that they are there not only to get well, but also to pray for all of those who are also in the hospital -- "all of those other people don't know it, but you can bring all of them to heaven!"

And what a comfort it is to hear these words! -- to know that our Cross is not simply to be carried or endured, but that it has power! It can be an offering that renews the face of the earth!

Ah, the Comforter, the Best!

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When God the Father created Adam, He breathed (spiritus) into his nostrils and gave Adam the Breath of Life.

Receive the Holy Spirit! Breathe Him in.

And yes, Adam -- like all of us -- was faced with danger and challenges. The New Adam, Jesus, faced the Cross. It was uncomfortable.

In our own day, we face a lot of discomforts. And the temptation is to seek comfort in other spirits -- literally, in liquid spirits, or in the spirit of lust, the spirit of greed, the spirit of the world, really -- and none of them really comfort us.

Jesus, for His part, was quite uncomfortable when He looked over Jerusalem and said, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem! If only you knew what would make for peace" -- peace! comfort! -- "But you would have it not."

And what did Jesus do then? He wept. He mourned.

Do you remember the Beatitudes -- Blessed are the poor in spirit, the meek and so on? ... One of the Beatitudes is "Blessed are they who mourn..."

Do you remember what Jesus promises those who mourn?

You will be comforted.

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Those who are comfortable in the world do not need The Comforter. 

But to those who carry the Cross for the sake of the world's salvation, for true peace, they will need the Comforter. We long for Him.

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So, I conclude where I began, with a question: What brings you comfort?

Pray now to receive the Holy Spirit once again, who renews us, who brings meaning to our suffering, who brings us peace. 

He is the Comforter, the Best.

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

Homily for Father Deters' First Holy Mass

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

On the night before He died, when Jesus at the Last Supper inaugurated the Most Holy Eucharist, that is, when He offered The First Holy Mass, He turned to His Apostles and said to them "No longer do I call you servants… but I have called you friends…" (Jn 15:15). 

Father Deters -- and it is so wonderful to call you that! -- Our Lord Jesus says these same words to you today: “No longer do I call you a servant. I call you my friend.” And since you are my friend, I entrust everything to you. I entrust myself to you. I even wait for your words – I wait for you to say the words of consecration that I said at the Last Supper – and only when you say them will I, Jesus, change the bread and wine into my body and blood. 

Who can behold such a gift? Who can behold such a mystery? ... that we literally hold Jesus as He comes into our hands....

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Many years ago, when you were in my RCIA class at St. Joseph in Cottleville, it was evident that God was discipling you, calling you to be one of His close friends. Your desire for knowledge was only eclipsed by your desire to beat me at soccer. I knew something was up not only because of your drive for excellence and holiness, but also because you had what seemed to be an insatiable thirst for wisdom and knowledge and understanding -- gifts of the Holy Spirit whom we celebrate on this Pentecost day. ... And when you found the wellspring of salvation, you drank it in. 

It was truly beautiful to see. 

If you get to teach RCIA at St. Joe’s, I hope that someday you will be able to experience the joy that I am experiencing now: of seeing one of your students offering his first Holy Mass. Through this grace, Jesus has drawn me deeper into His friendship because of this. I thank you for that. 

Goodness, the priesthood is such a gift and such a mystery.

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 In his Chrism Mass Homily to priests many years ago (2006), Pope Benedict once said, “This is the profound meaning of being a priest:  becoming the friend of Jesus Christ. […] Being a friend of Jesus, being a priest, means being a man of prayer. In this way we recognize Him and emerge from the ignorance of simple servants.” 

We emerge from the ignorance of simple servants.

 Jesus does not give the power to command Him to change bread and wine – to mere servants. Jesus does not give to just anyone the power to forgive in His almighty name. Jesus does not give to just an ordinary passer-by the grace of seeing His plan unfold in students becoming Fathers. He gives these graces – and so, so many more— to His friends.

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If I may, one friend to another, a word: when you elevate the host at this Holy Mass and at every Holy Mass, take your time. Adore the Lord who has given you everything. And Lift Him to the Father in thanksgiving for the greatest gift you could ever receive. 

Too often, priests rush this moment because they are just servants, just working. The Holy Mass is just another job, just another thing to do in the day -- instead of the entire source and summit of their priesthood, The Reason why they were chosen and called friends. 

You will notice that everyone is so moved when a priest offers his First Mass. We are moved because we see you in love with our Friend in the Eucharist. Show us always that you are in love with our friend.

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To this end, the Holy Catholic Church, in Her two thousand years of wisdom and experience, provides you with a prayer to remind you of the importance of your priesthood. Right before the Domine, non sum dignus (Lord, I am not worthy), you will pray the following words – you say in a whisper: 

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, who by the will of the Father and the work of the Holy Spirit, through your Death gave life to the world, free me by this, your most holy Body and Blood, from all my sins and from every evil; keep me always faithful to your commandments, and never let me be parted from you.

 Never let me be parted from you. 

The people of God never hear that prayer. And they do not hear it because it is the last quiet moment you have with Jesus before you receive Him. An intimate moment between friends. It is such an important prayer, because there is so much in the world that could separate us from Him, so many wolves that we shepherds must face. 

So open your lion-hearted soul. Speak friend and enter – And then show us, tell us to Behold the Lamb of God, encourage us to open our hearts to the one who is worth dying for, the Lamb who died for us and gave us everything – including you, His priest in the line of Melchizedek.

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 I thank God for your priesthood, Father Deters. And I thank you for bringing us Jesus today.

 May He prove Himself your friend forever. And may you never be parted from Him.

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

Head in the Clouds - Ascension, 2023

When was the last time you had your head in the clouds?

I can hear my grade-school teacher telling me, "Anthony, get your head out of the clouds." The turn of phrase meant to daydream, to be distant from the moment, from reality.

But today we see that our head is in the clouds. Literally.

I do not mean this as a cutesy pun (I leave such puns to the master: our pastor).

When Saint Paul talks about the Church, he talks about it as the body of Christ -- with Jesus Christ as the head (see Ephesians 1:22-23). The body and the head are connected; and our head, Jesus, literally ascends into to the clouds, and beyond them, into heaven.

What astounds me is that Jesus didn't have to do it this way. I mean, He didn't have to go to the top of the mountain with His disciples and then visibly ascend. He totally had the power to simply be in the Upper Room with them and then -- poof! -- disappear. He did this once, remember? When He was with the two men on the road to Emmaus. He walks with them, teaches them, eats with them, and then -- poof! -- He vanishes.

But here at the ascension, He departs in slow, deliberate fashion.

Why?

Because He wants us to look up. He wants us to see where He is going. He wants us to have our lives oriented to heaven.

He wants us to have our heads, to some degree, in the clouds, thinking of heaven.

Heaven -- what is rightly called the Kingdom of heaven -- is very important to Jesus. When He began His public ministry, how did He begin it? He said, "Repent, for the kingdom is at hand." And when He taught us how to pray, He said, "Our Father, who art in heaven... thy kingdom come ... on earth as it is in heaven." And here Jesus ends His public ministry drawing our gaze upwards into the heavenly, celestial realms.

We need this. We need to have our gaze drawn upward.

So often we are weighed down by our Crosses -- what's going on in the culture, or in our families, or in our Church; we can be bogged down by the earthly details -- our retirement, our car, our email box. We can look down so, so easy. We can be pulled down so quickly -- and not only to the things of earth, but things even worse, things below.

In the Preface to the Eucharistic Prayer, we pray that we may be "confident in following where He, our Head and Founder, has gone before" (Preface, Ascension I). 

Confident in following.

The via crucis can become the via caelis. The Way of the Cross can become the Way of Heaven. We can be confident, therefore, that when we carry the Cross, we are carrying the Cross to heaven. Precisely because Jesus ascends and draws our gaze upward, He gives us confidence, as though to say: persevere and you will be with me here: in heaven.

So we need to remember heaven -- if at the very least to remind us that we are not home. And we know that we are not home. Gosh, I've moved so many times in my life! As a youth, then in college, and then in grad school, and then at my first job, and then back to Saint Louis, and then to Mexico City for a summer, and then my first parish, and my second, and my third ... I'm a nomad!

When, Lord, I pray, will I finally get some rest? ...

Do you remember one of the prayers that we say when someone dies? We pray: may they "rest in peace." That's a colloquialism. We are praying that they are in heaven. Heaven is the place of rest, of peace. Home.

There is another colloquialism. We call Sunday the ... "Day of rest." There is something going on here.

When our heavenly Father gave us the Day of Rest, it wasn't just so that we would do nothing. The gift of rest was meant as a foretaste of heaven, the place of rest -- the place where we dwell forever in the safety and providence of our loving Father. Sunday itself was meant as a gift to draw our gaze upwards into heaven.

To put our head in the clouds again.

This was commanded us when we were freed from slavery, commanded because our Father knows that we can too easily look down and become enslaved again.

Like to our phones.

When was the last time that you turned off your phone? ... I've asked this of many people and their answers are almost always, "Father, I... don't know." 

For me, when my phone is on, I'm on. I'm available; I'm connected; I'm ... not at rest. But when I turn off my phone, I can literally feel a physical change in me. I can rest. When the phone's off, I'm off.

And I can be off. I'm not that important. I'm not The Savior. And if there is an emergency, I can easily be found. I can be off. I must have times when I'm off.

To do what?

To put my head in the clouds again. To look upwards. To wonder. To be re-created again. And to find strength and direction to carry on.

Sure, life may be all about the climb (thanks, Miley Cyrus). But without the destination, the climb makes no sense.

I've found, in addition to turning off my phone for a few hours each week (particularly Sunday), it is also vital to read books on the Saints -- about those who now live in the clouds.

For us men, particularly, it is important to read the Saints. To study. We used to have a room dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and reflection and putting our heads in the clouds. In the study, we would ponder the things above so as to make better this world below. Now we have man caves.

Can we be surprised, then, if we have so many cave men?

We need to start reading good books again, brothers.

So, I end this homily in the way that I began it: When was the last time you had your head in the clouds?

I have a feeling that if we stop for a bit and look up, we may find that our burdens (and our feet) will become light....

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

The Spirit of Truth - in the Sixth Week of Easter

This morning, Jesus promises to send the "Spirit of Truth." This is God, the Holy Spirit, and He will "lead us to all truth" -- and that truth will set us free.

It is God the Holy Spirit who speaks through the Church such that "whoever hears you (Apostles), hears me (Jesus)" (Luke 10:16). When the Church speaks with authority on matters of faith (doctrine) and morals (how to live), it is Jesus Himself that is speaking. He is "declaring to you everything that I have received from the Father" (cf John 16:13-15).

Paul typically preaches in the Spirit and you can tell the Spirit's effects: it cuts "sharper than a two-edged sword" (Hebrews 4:12). When Paul preaches in the Spirit, typically two things happen: first, many people are converted; and second, many people want to kill him. Such is the two-edged sword of the Spirit of Truth. It cuts to the heart.

But when Paul preaches in Athens (Acts 17:15ff), we do not see many conversions, nor do we see people trying to kill him. What is the reason for this? Did Paul not preach in the Spirit?

In brief, there are two reasons. The first deals with Paul; the second deals with the Athenians.

Paul tries too hard to reach where the Athenians are at; he tries to craft the message to their sensibilities. This can certainly be considered preaching in the Spirit and is a good, reasonable approach, as the Latin proverb rightly says: quidquid recipitur ad modum recipientis recipitur (See St. Thomas Aquinas' Summa I, 75, 5). That is, whatever is received is received according to the mode of the receiver. Because the Athenians are more educated, more cosmopolitan, Paul finds it opportune to preach in a more educated manner, hoping that, because they are educated, they will receive a more educated argument.

But they don't.

The Athenians simply don't care about the matter at hand. While it is true that they have an Altar to an Unknown God, they don't care to know what is unknown. For them, the matter is settled: there are gods that are unknown and so, shrug, let's be on our way. Paul sees the altar and thinks: they are searching! 

When, really, they are not.

So, the two reasons it didn't work in Athens: first, the Athenians were too comfortable; and second, Paul was too nice.

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I think these passages are very instructive for us in our day, both in how we receive the teaching of Jesus and in how we present the message of Jesus. Both need the inspiration of the Spirit -- and thus an openness to be taught, in addition to the boldness required to tackle tough topics. We need to be on fire with the Holy Spirit -- or else we will be in the fires of hell.

That kind of line would get the attention of modern-day "Athenians," would it not?

Paul, to be more effective, it would seem, would have needed to break through the comfortable ethos of the Athenian culture. He would have had to say something like, "You have an altar to an Unknown god, and thus it would seem that you worship such a god, but do you really? where are the sacrifices to it? And why would you sacrifice your lives to something Unknown? Athenians, you pride yourself on your logic and argumentation, but your logic is full of holes. Do you know how foolish you are?"

There are two responses to this: Quick! Let's kill him! and ... conviction: Paul's right.

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Let's take this for a spin in our current culture.

When it coms to the human being, it is understood that a human being has two legs. If a human being did not have two legs, we would quickly understand that something was wrong, something had happened: a war injury requiring amputation; an accident; an infection; a birth defect. There would be attempts to heal the leg or replace the leg with a prosthetic. And that there is the use of a prosthetic, to give the human being two legs again, shows us that two legs is the norm.

The exception -- the loss of a leg -- proves the rule: human beings have two legs.

It would be silly to say that one-leggedness is the norm.

In much the same way, there are two kinds of human beings: male and female.

If a human being is confused on this matter and says that something is wrong or something has happened -- an injury, a trauma, an illness, a birth defect -- there should be attempts to heal what is wrong. It would be silly to say that gender confusion is the norm. In fact, the culture today proves this. When a man mutilates his body so as to transition into a woman, he tries to transition into a woman -- not into a third gender. 

The exception -- the confusion of gender -- proves the rule: human beings are either male or female.

In much the same way, if a human being has two legs, it would not be in good medicine to remove one of them just because he emotionally feels like he should only have one. Rather, the human being needs to heal his mind to adapt to the reality: he has two legs.

In like manner, if a man is in his body a man -- well, just because emotionally he feels like a woman, he needs to have his mind healed so to adapt to the reality that he is a man. 

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Let the Spirit speak further!

If a government or a corporation demands that its citizens or its employees act as though two legs were not normative, can they be surprised that thinking human beings rebel? 

If a government or a corporation still demands allegiance -- indeed, celebration -- of this falsehood, they are no better than Nebuchadnezzar in the Book of Daniel (chapter 3) who threw the boys in the fiery furnace or the king who cut off the tongues and martyred the mother and sons in the Second Book of Maccabees (chapter 7). God will reward the martyrs and will punish the unjust.

More, if parents and teachers should teach these errors and confuse their children that we are not simply male and female, may they hear the words of Jesus Himself who said, "It would be better for you if a millstone were tied around your neck and you and it be hurled into the sea than to lead one of these little ones into sin" (Luke 17:2).

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The Spirit of Truth casts "fire upon the earth" (Luke 12:49). For those who receive it, it is encouraging, strengthening, and full of truth and charity. For those who cannot receive it, it is, like Christ, an obstacle and a stumbling block -- and a precursor to the eternal fires to come.

Phew. That's uncomfortable.

And it's uncomfortable because it forces us to think and to decide.

For the Athenians, they could just continue in their comfort. And so Paul can walk away. 

Had he made them uncomfortable, he probably would not have escaped Athens. But he probably would have made more than just a handful of conversions.

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Mothers - 6th Sunday of Easter & Mother's Day

When I was eleven, my parents divorced. Not exactly the cheerful start to a Mother's Day homily. But life isn't always pleasant. It has diapers, screaming infants, screaming teenagers, and a swirling world of expectations and condemnations. Mom had to deal with all of that. And, when I was eleven, in addition to the usual difficulties of life, Mom was also faced with raising me and my three other siblings by herself.

She did it with grace and with foresight. 

Mom had endured years being married to an alcoholic narcissist. And, while we had nice things growing up, she new that nice things are not everything. So she gave up the nice things and we moved to a small house, her deceased mother's house, actually, where we were protected from the idolatry of money. She protected us from as much abuse as she could. 

Mom had once been a real estate agent; now she had to do that and a full time job in secretarial work. She didn't have a degree. Eventually, she found an opening at Washington University and dropped everything for it so that we could go to college for free -- provided that we would get in. Mom worked there until she retired just a few years ago. And me and my sister are graduates from there.

When she came home, she would make dinner, show me how to do laundry -- I've been able to do it since I was 12 -- and would tell me to feed the dog. She let me have a puppy. And when I wasn't good at taking care of it, she would take care of it without a complaint. 

Mom would read to us at bedtime where I was first introduced to Aslan and Lucy and Peter and Tumnus and the entire gang from Narnia. The stories were the adventures -- that, an the occasional drive in a small, white, Cutlass Calais up to Des Moines, Iowa, where we would visit our great aunt. Mom would sing us lullabys, laugh with us, kiss us, and then pray as we went to bed.

When we were older and had unfortunately outgrown the bunkbeds and whatnot, Mom would put rosaries in the glove compartment of the family van that we would all drive. My friends would laugh at me for having rosaries in the car, but that was mom. 

Of course, mom would stay up late and would worry about when I would come home. There was no husband there to call her to bed or to assure her everything was fine. So mom would sit and pray.

Mom prayed a lot. After she left dad, and my older brothers were off at college, mom would take us to the Blue Army All-Night Vigil. There was Mass, adoration, confessions, rosary, and hours upon hours of silence. I spent every first friday night on a hard wooden pew, usually sleeping, awaiting the sunrise and the singing of the Tantum Ergo -- which indicated that the vigil was over. My vocation was born during those nights.

And when I did stay up all night, pulling all-nighters in college (I lived at home), there mom was in her prayer room, with her light on, still keeping vigil, praying for me.

Years later, when I was in the seminary, she would tell me how, once in the parish church, she went to the statue of Our Blessed Mother, Mary, and said, "Mary, you be the mother I so often can't be for my kids." And then she would go to Saint Joseph and say, "And you be the father that my husband can't be for them."

She entrusted us to Mary and to Joseph -- and we've been alright since. Sure, ups and downs, but Mary and Joseph have kept their promises to mom.

Towards the end of my dad's life, mom would encourage me to see dad. Of course, I didn't want to, but eventually I did. And, through mom's constant encouragement -- was it nagging? sure -- the relationship between me and my dad was healed just before he died.

I know not everyone has had a mom like I have had. And if there is a hole in your heart there, I want to entrust you to Mary. *Mary, be the mother that my parishioners so greatly desire and need!*

Mothers, I hope you all know the great treasure you are and still can be. You are irreplaceable. If you were missing, dad couldn't replace you. A man, no matter what the culture may say, can never replace you. You possess in your very being and body talents given by the Lord which, in sum, are rightly called the feminine genius. 

It was to uphold this treasure, which your beauty and piercing eyes reveal, that men were given their masculinity and strength. 

Every mother, then, can find a loving and protecting son in Jesus. Every mother, whether married or single, can always find a calm and steady husband in Joseph. Every mother, whether in the Church or out, I pray, will always be able to find a home here -- for home is where the heart is -- and a parish that will love them and uphold them and celebrate them.

We thank God for you. And we're sorry when we haven't loved you nearly as well as you deserve.

May we all get to heaven in answer to mom's prayers. Whether it was mom here that has been praying for us. Or our Mother *there* who is always loving and praying for us. And for all of our mothers who have passed, we look forward to the day where all is healed and all are reunited as one family again in heaven.

Amen.

"Your Joy Will Be Complete" (Jn 15:11) - Thursday in the Fifth Week of Easter

 Throughout this Easter Season, our Gospel passages have placed us with Jesus in the Upper Room at the Last Supper -- the same Upper Room where He would appear on Easter Sunday night and make His apostles ministers of the Sacrament of Reconciliation; the same Upper Room where they would again gather after the Ascension and then receive the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.

This week, we are still reflecting on that Holy Thursday night (this "return to the mysteries" is what the Church calls Mystagogia), but now we have left the Upper Room and are traveling towards the Garden of Gethsemane. "Gethsemane" means "olive press" and it is, wonderfully enough, at the base of Mount Olives -- the same mount where Jesus will ascend; the same mount where the Messiah will return on the Last Day.

As Jesus travels from the Upper Room and to Gethsemane, He and His disciples converse as they walk down the hill towards the Kidron Valley (the bottom of which they will cross in John 18:1). They pass by olive trees and grape vines. And these provide Jesus more material by which to teach His parables. Here, His famous: "I am the vine you are the branches..."

You've heard me speak previously about how Jesus says "Remain in me" and how that preposition "in" is so important -- and so different than the word "with." If Jesus had said, remain with me, we could assume that He meant as a co-pilot, a buddy, or a close friend -- but ultimately as a separate person. But to remain in is altogether different: it does not allow the distance of separation. There is union and intimacy in that word "in." The vine and the branches are one; the sap flows freely between them; they are in each other.

Spouses, when they love each other, are in love. And, if that continues, they will start taking on the ways of their spouse; they will finish sentences; they will have similar thoughts; they will love what the other loves.

The Father and the Son are even more so "in" love. They are love! ... Thus, the Son loves what the Father loves (and vice versa). Thus, the Son, knowing that His Father loves the Commandments, keeps the Father's commandments. The Son loves what the Father loves.

And if we do that, we too will remain in Jesus' love -- because we will be loving what He loves.

But then there is an interesting pivot to the reading today. Jesus says:

I have told you this so that my joy might be in you and your joy might be complete.

This is a very interesting line. Firstly, it is interesting because it gives the reason that Jesus has said what He has about remaining in. It has to do with joy. And, secondly, it is interesting because Jesus is saying this precisely at the moment that He is walking, in the twilight, through grape vines and olive trees (fruits that will be crushed), on his way to Gethsemane -- the press. His agony.

How could this possibly be the time to discuss joy?

Because joy is not an emotion. It is a fruit of being in love.

And even if we should suffer -- if we are in love when we suffer and are suffering for love, that suffering can actually be sweet. My life has purpose; it is truly a gift; to offer in this way is greater than any thing I could possibly do in this life. ... That's the stuff of joy.

That is why Jesus can speak of joy in this moment as He approaches agony. He is doing what He was made for; He is doing what He knows His Father loves. And He loves loving the Father. And the Father, for His part, loves loving the Son. And the Father loves giving life -- and so the Father will love resurrecting His Son. They find joy in loving each other.

In fact, the Father's love for the Son and the Son's love for the Father is so perfect, eternal, and infinite that it is God Holy Spirit.

Here, we can see what Jesus means when He says my joy might be in you and your joy might be complete. His joy is loving the Father -- and His joy is the Holy Spirit. 

Jesus wants the Holy Spirit in you. The Father and the Son love giving you the Holy Spirit -- so that your joy might be complete.

Complete: perfect, infinite, eternal.

This happens when we receive and dwell in the Holy Spirit.

At this point, we can return to the Ten Commandments. They are the benchmark, the low bar, for love. You love God if you keep the Commandments.

But, by extension of what we have just said, because joy is dependent on love, we can also say the keeping the Commandments is the doorway to joy.

And this make sense because, when we don't keep the Commandments, we feel division in our heart, we know we aren't being loving; we become bitter and resentful about what seems to be their restriction on so-called freedom.

But when we keep them, we know we are doing something greater than ourselves, loving Someone greater than this world; our life is given purpose and meaning and direction. We are in love. And from that comes joy.

And we enjoy that.

Jesus says this on His way to Gethsemane. Perhaps, as we walk there with Him, we too may find joy in the Crosses we can carry for love.

He points to the olives and the grapes -- "You will bear much fruit" -- crushed, yes; but olives and grapes...  they become the oil of gladness and the joy of new wine.

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"You Would Rejoice" (Jn 14:28) - Tuesday in the Fifth Week of Easter

 Yesterday, we noted that the Father's plan for us is not only to save us, but also to sanctify us. The Father longs to make us holy. And so He sends His Son to save us and then the Holy Spirit to sanctify us.

Jesus knows this plan and speaks of it at the Last Supper, which is the context of the Gospel reading today. We have been reading from the Last Supper for a while in the Easter season and there are so many treasures there.

In this passage, Jesus says, "If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father." That is to say, If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to my death now and to the Resurrection and then to heaven at the Ascension. 

Jesus gives the reason; He says, "The world must know that I love the Father." 

I love the Father. 

Oftentimes, when we think of our religion, we think it revolves around us: what I have to do, how Jesus died for me, what is my prayer life like, etc. But, at the center of our religion is the fact that Jesus has done everything -- including dying for you and me -- not only because He loves you and me, but firstly because He loves the Father.

This is where things get interesting.

You see, the Son loves the Father. And the Father loves the Son. And their love is so personal, so perfect, so eternal, and so infinite that their love is God: the Holy Spirit.

Let me put all of this together, then: Jesus says "you would rejoice that I am going to the Father" because this means not only that Jesus is going home to heaven, but it also means that the plan has been accomplished and the Holy Spirit, the Love of the Father and the Son, can be poured out upon the earth to recreate her, to "renew the face of the earth."

A person who lives in the Holy Spirit, then, has the peace of which Jesus says today; if you are in the love of the Father of the Son, you have no need to let your hearts be troubled or afraid, even when faced with the certainty of a Cross.

Jesus tells His Apostles this -- that He is going to be crucified, but that this crucifixion will end in Resurrection and ultimately in the pouring out of the Holy Spirit -- in the Upper Room, which happens to be the place not only of the Last Supper, but of where the Holy Spirit was first poured forth at Pentecost.

Admittedly, these may be big thoughts for an early morning, but it is the source of our Easter joy: Crosses can become Glory; men can be received into Eternal Communion.

These thoughts, too (I hope) give our Easter Season deeper purpose and direction. The Easter Season isn't over; nor are these days a mere interlude before the green vestments of Ordinary Time. In a way somewhat analogous to Advent when we awaited the coming of Christ, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, in these days we are now awaiting and preparing for the Third Person of the Holy Trinity, the Holy Spirit. 

May our hearts and minds be prepared for Him when He comes at Pentecost!

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Is "Saved" Enough? - Monday in the Fifth Week of Easter

 I love my Protestant brothers and sisters. I love their zeal and their energy. Of course, I also want them in the Catholic Church -- and not because I'm trying to be arrogant, but because they are truly missing out on some amazing things.

So, for example, recently I was at a Cardinals' baseball game and there were a few street preachers on the corner. They were using a bullhorn and shouting to the fans as they went into the stadium, "Are you saved??!? Have you thought about whether you are saved???!?"

Of course, I wanted to go over and debate the Protestant dictum of Once-Saved-Always-Saved -- and I want to be saved and get to heaven just like the next guy that believes in life after death -- but is "being saved" the entirety of what Jesus wants for us?

That is to say, if the Cross is enough, then why all of the "extras" in the Easter Season? -- baptism, for starters. Why do I need the "extra step" of baptism if I am saved by the Cross of Jesus? ... And why even the Holy Spirit? If Jesus is enough, why do I need the Holy Spirit??

In a word: because Jesus not only wants to save us, He wants to make us holy.

The word, "holy," comes from the Latin, sanctus -- which also happens to be the origin of the word "saint." A saint is sanctus, holy. And while God alone is holy, He bestows His holiness upon men whereby they can think and know and love and live like He knows and thinks and loves and lives. Hence Jesus says, "Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him."

God's dwelling. -- A tabernacle, a temple, a church -- these things are holy. And Jesus says that God will dwell in us if we keep His words. We will be holy.

Of course, we cannot do this by our own efforts nor by our own initiative. Hence, Jesus says on several occasions that He will send the Holy Spirit. And why?

Not just to save, but to make us holy.

As we progress in this Easter Season, know that there are still so many graces still to come. Pentecost and the descent of the Holy Spirit is not a mere add-on. Do not overlook it! The Holy Spirit, the Advocate, is coming!

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The Spiritual Physics - Fifth Sunday of Easter

I've said it before, but when I was young, I wasn't very impressed by the Holy Spirit. Whether as a fluffy dove, or as someone that I had to "leave room for" on the dance floor, He didn't really inspire me as God. He was an add-on, really. And therefore kind of unnecessary.

I voiced these wrong-headed opinions when I was in grad school. My professor, Barbara Morgan, a giant in the field of Catechetics, was talking about how the Holy Spirit was necessary, in fact, in the Father's plan for us. And I, in sum, said that "Why do we need Him if we are already saved by the Cross of Jesus Christ?"

Barbara said that was quite a Protestant thing to say in a Catholic classroom.

I was perturbed by that comment. I never thought of myself as protesting against a teaching of the Catholic Church. When it came to morality and the "sexual," hot-button teachings, I was on board. How could it be that my problem was with something involving... the Creed?

Barbara walked me through things for a moment. She said...

How were you baptized? In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the...  Holy Spirit. --  And then how does the priest confect the Eucharist? By the power of the... Holy Spirit. -- And when sins are forgiven in the confessional, do not the words of absolution say how the Father has reconciled the world to Himself and... poured out the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins? -- And how were the Sacred Scriptures inspired? ... by the Holy Spirit. -- And how was Jesus, the Second Person of the Trinity, made incarnate in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary? ... by the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit.

And you are going to tell me that He is an add-on?

This shook me terribly. I had gone to Catholic grade school and Catholic high school -- and why hadn't I learned this? I didn't have a relationship with the Holy Spirit...

I actually started to weep at the end of that class session. And not simply of because what I saw was lacking in my life -- but more because I didn't understand. I immediately believed that the Holy Spirit was important (thank you, Barbara), but I still could not wrap my head around how it worked. I was convinced, but I couldn't see.

I wanted to know the spiritual physics.

The a-ha moment came weeks later in the same class when we were discussing the Ascension. Here again, I was hit with something I did not understand. I saw the Ascension as a kind of farewell; Jesus is leaving us, going to heaven. I kind of felt like that person in the movie "Elf": Bye, Buddy! Hope you find your daa-aad.

What was I missing?

Barbara said that one of the great ways to understand a doctrine of the Creed is to imagine a world had that doctrine never happened nor been taught. So, in this case, imagine what things would be like had Jesus not ascended.

For me, that was easy: if Jesus did not ascend, then He would be walking around the Earth somewhere. Probably Jerusalem, I thought.

So, how would you have a personal relationship with Him? .... I guess I would have to fly to Jerusalem and would have to push through the crowd. That would be annoying.

And what about His command that you must eat His flesh and drink His blood? (John 6:48-58).

Suddenly, I realized this would be quite odd. I wouldn't be able to actually eat His flesh or drink His blood. (I mean, I could, but I didn't want to have to bite Him on His arm or something). 

And I also realized that when He said "Remain in me," that this is different than "Remain with me." (see here). And, well, I wouldn't be able to actually do that. I could imagine; I could make-believe; but I couldn't actually do.  ....

The Ascension provides the "space" for what the Holy Spirit, the Love of the Father and the Son, will do. That is, at Pentecost, the Holy Spirit will come down upon men, the Apostles, and they will now have the power of God (for the Holy Spirit is God), to change bread and wine into Jesus. They will have the power to be God's instrument for His forgiveness of sins. They will be able to actually teach in His name such that whoever hears them, hears Jesus.

In a word, it is the Holy Spirit that is able to take the personal, individual, geographical presence of Jesus and universalize that presence such that He can dwell not only in Jerusalem, but in every tabernacle and in every confessional in every town, city, and village in-between. Even here in Chesterfield. Jesus is actually here.

And not simply spiritually. Jesus' physical presence is not taken away ("I will be with you always" He promises), nor is it diminished. We can actually say that Jesus' physical presence has been increased and enhanced. We call it His Sacramental Presence. 

Sacramental does not mean simply spiritual. Nor does it mean diminished. It is actually a heightening. He is here. This is what the Holy Spirit does. And the Holy Spirit has the power to do that. After all, it was the Holy Spirit that brought Jesus and made Him incarnate in the womb of Mary. It is the Holy Spirit that makes Him "incarnate" in the Eucharist.

In sum, and here is the kicker: Without the Holy Spirit, we do not have access to Jesus.

The Holy Spirit is essential!

Without Him, the Church is just a group of men with pointy hats; the Truth would not be known; Scripture would not be authentic; Sacraments would be symbols; and I ... would be selling shoes somewhere.

Jesus says on several occasions that He "must go to my Father." He also says that we will do great things "because I am going to the Father." Do you hear the Ascension and the sending of the Holy Spirit there? I must go because then I can give you the next installation of grace: God the Holy Spirit Himself!

The rest of the Easter Season is very much analogous to the Season of Advent. In Advent, we prepared and awaiting the coming of the Second Person of the Trinity, Jesus Christ. In Easter, we continue to prepare and await (all while celebrating) the coming of the Third Person of the Holy Trinity: the Holy Spirit.

Pentecost is not simply a nice add-on at the end of the Easter Season. It is essential and beautiful.

You will hear me hearken back to these themes again in the coming days.

For now, I ask you: do you have a relationship with the Holy Spirit? 

And do you realize that, in the end, the Father doesn't only want to save you, but make you holy?

Let us pray that in these coming weeks, the doors of our hearts and minds may be open to the truly awesome gifts God the Father has ready for us. Come, Holy Spirit!