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!