Was Jesus ever grounded by Mary or Joseph?

 Do you think Jesus was ever grounded by Mary or Joseph?                        What do you think? Do you think Jesus ever got put in time-out?  Because if he did, this would surely have been the time.  Can you imagine?  Those of you who are parents or grandparents…can you imagine the horror Mary and Joseph experienced once they realized that their twelve year-old boy was missing?!  I’ll bet many of you, if not most of you, have experienced that same terror.  I know Kyle and I have.  I think we’ve “temporarily misplaced” each of our five kids at one time or another, for varying lengths of time, in locations with varying degrees of perceived danger.  You know the feeling…sheer panic.  Its almost like you don’t breathe until they’re safe in your arms…right?

    Now let’s think about Mary and Joseph.  They’ve gone to Jerusalem for the Passover—just like they’d done so many times before.  It had gotten to be routine.  But this time, after an entire day of traveling and looking for their son, they came to the horrifying realization that he was not with them!  So they immediately returned to Jerusalem to search for their son—God’s son.  A search that lasted three days.  Three agonizing days!  Surely, with each passing hour, with each passing day, their fears intensified.  For one of us, it would be as if we’d left our 12 year-old to fend for himself in New York City, or Chicago.  Finally, thanks be to God, they find him!  And what does Mary say to Jesus?  “Son, why have you done this to us?  Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.”  Why have you done this to us?  Hear the accusatory nature of that question; hear the extreme hurt in Mary’s words to her son.  She didn’t just say:  why did you do this; or how did this happen?  No, she said why have you done this to us?  His curt answer didn’t help matters much either, as Luke says that they did not understand what he had said to them.  In spite of this though, Luke says that “Mary kept all of these things in her heart”…in other words, the good and the bad.

     On this the feast of the Holy Family, we are challenged to look at what it means to be a family.  When we enter the church, our eyes are immediately drawn to the beautiful manger scene here in front of the atlar.   During this time of year, we tend to sentimentalize the Holy Family – they become figures of plaster and ceramic, not of flesh and blood. We forget: they weren’t that different from us.   They were holy, yes.  But they were also human.  Their lives were far from perfect; far from problem-free.  The story of the Holy Family is the story of life not always turning out as expected.  It’s the story of a teenage mother being visited by an angel and then conceiving a child before she was married.  It’s the story of a distraught Joseph, confronting scandal, planning on divorce.  It’s the story of a family forced to become refugees, living as immigrants in the land that once held their ancestors as slaves.  As we heard in today’s gospel, it’s the story of a missing child, and days of anxious searching by his parents.  And it’s the story of a man’s violent death–a death watched by a mother filled with helplessness and unimaginable sorrow.  This family was holy.  But it was also human.   We need to be reminded of this in this Christmas season as we are asked to strive to be like them.  The Holy Family is indeed a perfect model for us, but their life was far from perfect.

     The Christmas season is indeed one of light and joy– but it is also one of darkness and despair.  What do I mean?  Friday, we celebrated the birth of the Savior of the world!  And then yesterday, the Church commemorated the feast of the first martyr, St. Stephen, who was stoned to death because of his faith.  Today, we celebrate the Holy Family, but then tomorrow, we mark the feast of the Holy Innocents--the children slaughtered by Herod.   The joy of Christ’s birth is suddenly tempered by tragic reminders of why the Incarnation was necessary.  There is an interconnectedness of light and darkness; of life and of death.   I was reminded of that connection on Christmas Eve.  After the 7pm mass, we had a family picture taken right over here.  We’re in the center of the picture, with these beautiful banners hanging over our right shoulders, and this almost life-sized manger to our left.  But back behind us, almost hidden in the picture, is Jesus, crucified on the cross.  Right over there.  Yes, there was a light shining on Jesus Christ crucified just as there was on the baby Jesus in the manger.    In the stable, the mother Mary looks down at a life beginning; at the foot of the cross, she looks up at a life ending.  It’s just a few steps here from the wood of the manger to the wood of the cross.  But in so many ways, the two singular events are inseparable.   One led inevitably to the other. Joy and sorrow are almost side by side, linked by sacrifice, by faith, and by love.  It’s the story of our salvation.  And it’s the story of the Holy Family.

     The juxtaposition of those two images in this church, the crèche and the crucifix, serves as a powerful lesson for this feast. We realize that when we speak of the Holy Family, we speak of a family that struggled and suffered, like so many of us.  But: this family also knew profound hope.  They trusted completely in God.  Each one of us is called to that kind of trust... And the Holy Family is with us.  In our time, they stand beside all who worry, who struggle, who search, who pray.  The Holy Family stands beside parents anxious about their children, worrying for their welfare.  The Holy Family walks with immigrants and refugees separated from those they love.  The Holy Family comforts teenage mothers and single parents; and consoles the prisoner, the outcast, the bullied, the scorned—and the parents who love them.  And they offer solace and compassion to any mother or father grieving over the loss of a child.  This Christmas, they weep with the parents and family members of victims of terrorist attacks in Paris and in California, as well as those who lost their lives by natural disaster.  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph share our burdens.  But they also uplift us by their example.. For you see, in all of their trials, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were never alone.  God was always with them.  They endured by His grace.  They prayed. They hoped. They trusted in God’s will.  We might ask ourselves where we can find that kind of peace and purpose in our own families, in our own lives.  One answer is in Paul’s beautiful letter to the Colossians.  It speaks eloquently of love—but not romantic love.  This letter is about how to form a healthy and holy Christian community.  And from Paul’s words, we can draw lessons about how to form a healthy and holy Christian family.  “Put on compassion,” Paul tells us, “kindness, humility, gentleness   and patience… and over all these, put on love; that is, the bond of perfection..”It’s just that simple — and just that difficult.  I’m sure the Holy Family had moments when living those virtues seemed hard, or even impossible.  But they did things many of us don’t.  They listened to angels.  They dreamed.  And they gave themselves fully to God.  They made their lives a prayer.

     When we find ourselves overwhelmed, we need to remember to look toward the crèche for help—to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.   They are our model for living.   But we need to see them completely, remembering the closeness and reality of the cross.  That was their life and it’s ours, too.  Yet, through all their hardships, in times of anxiety and difficulty, persecution and tragedy—times very much like our own here today–they showed us how to be people of faith, people of forgiveness, people of love.  They show us, in other words, how to be holy.  May God bless each of our families, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,  Amen.

What do you want me to do for you?

 “What do you want me to do for you?”   Can you imagine??  What would be YOUR response to that question if that happened to YOU?!  Let’s think about that for a second.  Say you go to the Perpetual Adoration Chapel.  You genuflect and lower your head toward the floor as a sign of reverence, and when you straighten up, Jesus is standing there in front of you!  Before you’ve even had a chance to pray for whatever is was that brought you there, Jesus asks:  What do you want me to do for you?  What do you say?  What do you do?  How do you answer?  Let’s look to the Gospels for help.

    In the Gospel last Sunday, James and John asked Jesus to do what they requested of Him, and Jesus asked them:  What do you want me to do for you?  Their answer?  When you come into your glory, we wish to sit, one at your right, and the other at you left.  A selfish request, no? The Gospel said that the other apostles became indignant at these two for making such a request.  It became a teaching moment for Jesus, as he responded that anyone who wishes to be first must be the slave of all.  Not exactly the answer James and John were looking for.  Actually, the Gospel from the week before carries the same message.  The rich young man runs up to Jesus and asks what he must do to have eternal life, telling Jesus  that he has kept all of the commandments since childhood—no doubt hoping that he has already done enough.  But when Jesus tells him that he must go and sell his belongings and give the money to the poor, the man goes away sad—apparently not willing to part with his worldly possessions. So although Jesus does not ask  “what do you want me to do for you,” it is clear that the man wanted Jesus to promise him eternal life—which Jesus did not do.  So the young man leaves—selfishly not wanting to part with his “stuff.”

Then finally we come to Bartimaeus.  So Jesus is heading through Jericho on his way to Jerusalem, sizeable crowd in tow, when this beggar along the roadside calls out:  “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!”  Folks try to shut him up, but he only cries the louder:  “Son of David, have pity on me!”  At this point he is risking being beaten or stomped or worse by continuing to harass Jesus when he’s been told to be quiet.  He persists.  Jesus stops.  “Call him.”  So members of the crowd—the same crowd that was threatening him with bodily harm if he didn’t stop yelling at Jesus—these men go to Bartimaeus all happy and supportive of him all of a sudden and tell him:  “Take courage, get up.  Jesus is calling you.”  (SIDE NOTE) Let me just point out that we see this happen all the time in our own lives.  People acting a certain way; taking a certain position because they think that’s what society wants, or what will benefit them the most…but as soon as they perceive that they’re in the minority, or that the “in crowd” disagrees with them, they do a complete 180.  You can just see it, can’t you?  One minute they’re yelling angrily at Bartimaeus, telling him to be quiet; the next they are all smiles as they help him up.  He’s no longer a trouble-maker, because Jesus is interested in him, so they suddenly are, too.  Hypocrites.  Ok, so back to the story…Jesus asks him:  What do you want me to do for you?  And Bartimaeus says:  “Master, I want to see.”  “Go your way, your faith has saved you.”  And he immediately gains his sight and follows Jesus.

    In the preceding two Gospels, Jesus is approached by persons of status with their requests—a rich man, and two of his hand-picked favorites, James and John.  Remember, this is happening as Jesus is traveling to Jerusalem to be crucified; so James and John have been at his side for three years; these are 2 of the 3 that Jesus takes with him when he separates himself from the others.  They clearly are two of Jesus’ closest friends.    Yet in both Gospels, Jesus does not grant the people what they seek.  But here’s this low-life beggar…and by the way, in those times, beggars were very common.  One estimate I read said that Jericho had a population of roughly 5000, and had as many as 500 beggars!  So they were everywhere.  But this one beggar is singled-out from the hundreds of beggars, and Jesus miraculously cures him of his blindness.  Bartimaeus’ request was selfish, too, wasn’t it?  He wanted to see.  But what did he do once Jesus granted his request?  Remember, this is a man who was totally dependent on others.  He could do nothing on his own.  Whether he ate or not depended upon the generosity of others.  So when Jesus granted him his sight, and told him:  “Go on your way, your faith has saved you” what did he do with this sudden, newfound freedom?  He gave it away.  He could have done anything he wanted; gone anywhere he wanted; seen anything he wanted; --but he instead, he chose to remain dependent upon someone else—Jesus.  He rejected the call of the world, to focus on the call of his Savior. 

  So, back to the Chapel.  Jesus, standing in front of you, asks you:  “What do you want me to do for you?”  What will your answer be?  Will you be like the young rich man, and stay attached to your worldly possessions?  The world tries to keep us in the dark; blind to what is good, what is true, what is right, what is holy.  The world says we should focus on what is important to US—that’s what we should strive to attain.  The world wants to hide the light from us—the Light that is Jesus Christ.  Politicians, judges, public officials, the members of the crowd that followed Jesus—they try to manipulate the world so that is serves them and their interests; reflects what they wish the truth would be for their own perceived happiness.  But the truth cannot be changed—and cannot be hidden from those who earnestly seek it.  Jesus is the way, and the truth, and the light.  It is in Him, and Him alone, that we find true happiness.  So, even though none of us will probably ever have that close encounter with Jesus in the chapel, every time we pray, Jesus asks us: “what do you want me to do for you?”  Would that we each could answer like “enlightened” Bartimaeus:  “Master, I want to see.”  See, so that we could know the truth, live the truth, and in turn spread the truth to others, so that, unblinded by worldly things, we might ultimately see…the face of Jesus in paradise. 

 

Thank God for Dirty Dishes

 

A woman was hosting a dinner party, and at the table she asked her six year-

old daughter to say grace. “But, I don’t know what to say,” the girl
responded. “Just say what you hear Mommy say,” replied the mother. The little
girl nodded, bowed her head, and prayed, “Dear Lord, why in the world did I
invite all these people to dinner?”

I think many of us can identify with that mother. The routine of cleaning

and readying our home and the meal saps our energy from things that bring us joy. The pressure mounts, and we get frustrated. We get tired and irritable. We look around at the demands on us, and say, “Oh Lord, why in the world is this on my shoulders?”

     I wonder if Jesus felt that kind of pressure. Everywhere he went, crowds

pressed in on him, demanding his attention. Today’s passage tells the story of
Jesus leaving the crowds behind to find some time alone. The first 10 verses set the stage for us. Jesus and his disciples are in the midst of their great Galilean ministry. In the midst of this ministry, Jesus takes his disciples apart for a break. But, as we heard, the crowd follows Jesus anyway—and it was a large crowd at that.  Then Jesus, testing Phillip, challenges him with a question: “Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?”  This is important, because it tells us that we are to identify, not with Jesus, but with Phillip in this story. Jesus knew the miracle that was coming, just as he knows what’s coming for each one of us every day. That’s his divine right as the Son of God. But it’s not our privilege. We are like Phillip, faced with crowds and asked sometimes what seem to be impossible-to-answer questions. In response to Jesus’ question, Phillip despairs.  “Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little.” Then Andrew appears and tells them that he has found a small boy who is willing to basically share his lunch: five barley loaves and two fish. But that’s all he has, so Andrew despairs, too, saying, “What are these among so many?”  And now Jesus teaches them—and us--a lesson. He instructs the disciples to direct the crowds to sit. What do you think the people were thinking at that moment? Perhaps a hush fell over the crowd as they nestled in the grass fixing their eyes on Jesus.  Listen to what John says next:  “Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them….”   Not:  Jesus took the food and blessed it; or prayed over it, but that he took it and gave thanks. This may seem like an insignificant detail, but John gives us a clue that something more important is going on here. Later in John’s gospel we read: “Then some boats from Tiberias landed near the place where the people had eaten the bread after the Lord had given thanks.”  Note that John didn’t say “near the place where the Lord miraculously fed the 5000;” or “near the place where the Lord worked a great wonder,” but “near the place where the people had eaten the bread after the Lord had given thanks.” And so it seems that what was important to John about this event was not the supernatural feeding, but rather the lesson that Jesus taught about thanksgiving.

     Lets take a look at a couple principles of thanksgiving. First, the obvious: be thankful for what you have. Jesus gives thanks for the five loaves and two fish. The miracle hasn’t happened yet, so he’s not thanking God after having fed the 5000. He offers thanksgiving for the blessing that is at hand. Jesus knows full well what is going to come, but his disciples and the watching crowd don’t. All they see is Jesus offering thanks for a meager meal.  Often times in our own lives we encounter discontented people. You know who I’m talking about. You ask them how they’re doing and they say, “You won’t believe what happened to me today…” and then go on to tell you all of the bad things going on in their life. Or when you go out to eat, and ask them how they like their meal, and they have to tell you about the place that does it better. You ask them about their work, and it starts a complaint session on office politics. The sad thing is, their attitude can rub off on us.  Then we’re the ones with a case of criticisms; infected with the “if only’s.” “If only I had this…” “If only he would do that...”

     These days, it is so easy to be discontented with the world in general, and our lives in particular.  But Jesus calls us to be thankful for what we have. Be thankful that you have a roof over your head. Be thankful for the people God has brought into your life. Don’t worry that they’re flawed, because we all are.  Be thankful for the food on your plate each day. We should even be thankful for the challenges that force us to grow. One of our friends has a sign on her kitchen sink that says: “Be thankful for dirty dishes.” (we don’t have that sign in our house, by the way)  So the first lesson we can learn from today’s Gospel is to just be thankful for what we have.

     But being thankful is not enough.  Not only should we be thankful for what we have, but we should realize that gratitude is more action than emotion. What does that mean?  It means we should express our thankfulness, and not keep it to ourselves.  I remember when I was growing up, my mom would always make me write thank-you notes when people gave me gifts.  I didn’t like that at all. But mom was trying to teach me that an expression of gratitude is important. Saying “thank you” is not only good manners, it’s the right thing to do.  So often our prayers are characterized by requests, when really they should be characterized by praise and thanksgiving. The very act of expressing

thankfulness makes us more aware of the blessings that we receive.

     In addition to the principle of thankfulness, there is a principle of

abundance in the Gospel today. There’s not a hard connection between the two. The abundance is not a direct result of the thankfulness. It’s not some kind of formula. Rather, we receive abundantly through God’s good pleasure, and the abundant blessing
comes in his own time. A few observations about the principle of abundance:
First, God’s abundance comes in unexpected ways. None of the gospel
writers gives us any idea how the miracle in today’s gospel actually happened.    Have you ever thought about it?   Did the food miraculously reconstitute itself as it was passed around? Did it stretch as each person tore off a hunk? Was it placed in baskets that suddenly filled to the rim? We simply don’t know. We can be sure that it was unexpected. Certainly the disciples didn’t see it coming. We saw this same truth when Jesus turned water into wine at the wedding of Cana. When Jesus provides abundantly, he often does so through unexpected means. Our challenge then is to keep our minds open enough to receive the abundant blessing when it comes.

Another important fact is that God’s abundance is not to be wasted. Notice Jesus’ instruction in today’s Gospel. He tells his disciples to gather up the fragments that nothing might be wasted. That is a fundamental principle of abundance: not wasting what you have. There is a sense of good stewardship involved here. We have been given abundant blessing, and God calls us to be wise in our use of the blessing, whether it is of time, talent, or treasure.

    Jesus is the source of all that is good in our lives.  There’s nothing wrong with asking him to help us in trying times.  But we must never forget to be grateful for his many blessings in our lives—our families, our friends, our jobs, our FAITH.  So today, when we “pause to add our own intentions,”  along with whatever we seek in the silence of our hearts, let’s all—every one of us—recall how he’s blessed us and showered us with his grace and mercy and love, and say:  Thank you, God.

"Do not be afraid; just have faith."

     The first reading and the Gospel today both deal with death, which is a rather uncomfortable subject for most of us.  You know the old saying:  there are only two things in life that are certain:  death and taxes--not necessarily in that order.  Death is a part of life that we all have to experience.   An older person once told me that he was ready to go anytime.  He was tired, and death no longer frightened him.  I believe that many older persons share his view.  I think it’s a very healthy attitude to have, and is as it should be, for those of us who have faith in the risen Lord.  However, when death comes at an early age, before someone has lived a full life, it seems much more sad and disturbing, and is so much harder to deal with.  In the Gospel today, Jairus was faced with the fact that his young daughter was gravely ill.  The love he had for his daughter forced him to do everything he could to save her life, including seeking out—not a doctor, but a wandering preacher that he heard was able to cure people. Jairus was a synagogue leader, a teacher, a rabbi most likely. He may have heard Jesus speak in the synagogue, or he may only have known about him through reputation.  Nothing, however, would get in the way of his humbling himself and asking for a miracle for his beloved daughter. 

    But, as you know, the Gospel passage today is not only about Jairus and his daughter.  If we think of today’s Gospel as a sandwich, then the two slices of bread make up the story of Jairus and his daughter.  But, as with any sandwich, there’s something in the middle—the filling so to speak.  We see this literary style quite often in the Gospel of Mark.  The story of Jairus begins, but then is interrupted by another story, before we come back to the end of the story of Jairus and his daughter—the other piece of bread.  And the “meat” of this sandwich is an incident where Jesus, on His way to heal the little girl, has an encounter with a woman who had been hemorrhaging for twelve years.  Because she suffered from this condition, she was considered to be unclean, and as such, would not have been able to approach Jesus from the front or she would have been turned away.  So, she literally had to “sneak up” on Jesus from behind.  Just like Jairus, the woman came to Jesus seeking his healing power.  Her faith in Him was so strong that she didn’t think she even needed to ask Jesus to cure her, but only needed to touch his clothing to be made well.  Despite the fact that Jesus was being touched and jostled from all sides as he travelled along, he felt something different when the woman touched him; felt some power leaving him-- so he asked who it was that had touched him.  His question of “Who touched me?” struck fear into the woman.  She knew she was unclean and, according to the law, by touching Jesus had rendered Him unclean as well.  Still, the woman truthfully admitted to Jesus what she had done.  And, instead of being angry with her, Jesus praised her for her great faith, and told her it was by that faith that she was cured.  Mark relates through this story the power of Jesus to heal, because in a little while Jesus’ power is going to be seen as something even greater--not just to heal, but to raise someone--Jairus’ twelve-year-old daughter-- from the dead.

     And now we come back to the other slice of bread on the sandwich.  Jairus’ daughter has died, and some people from Jairus’ home came to tell Jesus that he doesn’t need to come any more, that it was too late.  In response to this news, Jesus speaks only seven words, but they are words which we should memorize and apply over and over to our own lives as well—especially whenever things are going badly for us:  Do not be afraid; just have faith.  I love the way Mark tells the story of Jairus, because he keeps it vivid but simple, and sandwiching the healing of the hemorrhaging woman in the middle of it prepares us for the even greater miracle which is to come—the raising of the little girl from the dead.

     In our first reading from Wisdom, we are reminded that “God did not make death, nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living.” Our God is a God of life, and we should be a people of life. The kingdom of heaven we talk about so much starts right here, right now, by us living the life that Jesus taught us to live.  In the responsorial psalm today, the psalmist says “you preserved me from those going down into the pit…and changed my mourning into dancing.”   Our God is a God of life.  All we have to do is believe and live! The kingdom of heaven is here… now… if we give into it, live it, love in it, and never fear. That is the continuing Good News that Jesus preached during his lifetime here on Earth, and the Good News that needs to sustain us as we move toward our own death and the eternal life that follows it.  Do not be afraid;   just have faith.   

     For those of us who follow Christ, death is an end, but not the end.  It is an end to our life as we know it here on Earth.  But as believers, we know that it is merely a transition to the life we were meant to enjoy from the moment of our conception—eternal life in heaven with God, and all the angels and saints.  Death can be a very scary proposition, that’s true.  But if we take the words of Jesus to heart, the sting of death is removed and our focus is on our journey toward heaven.  Fear can often be a crippling emotion in our lives if we allow ourselves to be stricken with it.  We must fight the urge to be afraid in this life.  We must trust Jesus and his admonition: Do not be afraid; just have faith.  We must have faith, and through this faith conquer our fears.  Like many things we talk about, it’s simple, but not easy.  That’s where prayer comes in.  Visits to the Perpetual Adoration Chapel.  Reconciliation.  Mass and the reception of Holy Communion.  All of these strengthen our relationship with God, and therefore strengthen our ability to resist fear and to have faith in Him.

     The world seems to be persecuting us Christians and our beliefs at every turn.  The latest is the Supreme Court’s ruling redefining marriage.  I was a teenager when Roe v. Wade was decided, and so I really don’t remember being profoundly affected by the decision.  But I imagine the same sort of feelings of persecution were prevalent among Catholics then as are today.  How can man purport to change God’s law?  Well, Catholics, as well as other Christians, have continued to fight against abortion for over forty years, through prayer, education, and legislation.  When we say at the end of mass:  “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord” it’s not just a way to end the celebration.  It’s a charge from Jesus himself.  He told his disciples to go out to all the world and spread the Good News.  If we are followers of Christ—disciples—then we, too, must share His Good News.  Just because a court of man says someone has a right to do something, it doesn’t mean that it is right for them to do so in the eyes of God.  And so the words of Jesus in today’s Gospel—do not be afraid, just have faith—are for each and every one of us as we continue to live our lives according to God’s law and His desire for us.  From the very beginning, God gave man free will.  Each of us has to decide daily how we will exercise that freedom.  If we follow Jesus, then we must have faith in the face of fear; trusting in His plan for our salvation.  Heaven is our goal, and we should do everything in our power to get there, and to bring as many people with us as we can.  And so we cannot remain silent.  We have to…lovingly…share what we know to be the truth with everyone we meet.  Whatever the issue may be, we must be soldiers for Christ and spread his Good News, because, not only do we have the right to do so, but it’s the right thing to do….

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Divine Mystery of the Holy Trinity

 In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.  In other words, in the name of the Trinity.  Every prayer we say includes the three persons of the Trinity.  We pray to God the Father, through his Son Jesus in the Holy Spirit.  The Trinity is our origin, and our goal. 

The mystery of the Trinity should at once baffle us and engender sentiments of love within our hearts.  It reminds me of when Bishop Baker came to celebrate the Sacrament of Confirmation when my daughter Grace was in the 8^th grade.  For one of his questions he asked Grace:  “What is the Trinity?”  She meekly gave him her answer, but he couldn’t quite get it all, so he said:  I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.”      “That’s ok Bishop,” she said, “it’s a mystery, you’re not supposed to…”

    The Trinity is our origin and our goal.  The Jews of Christ's day were totally astounded by the revelation that not only was Jesus the Son of God - there was more - there was a Holy Spirit, who constituted the God-head along with the Father.  If you examine the Scriptures, the first person to reveal that we could even call God "Our Father" was Jesus.  Even Moses only knew God as "I am who am," he did not know about the Son and the Holy Spirit as we understand these persons who make up the Trinity.  This is exactly what St. Paul refers to in our second reading from Romans.  We cry out, "Abba - Father!"  “Abba” is translated as being more intimate than “Father;” it’s more like saying: "Daddy."  This term implies a special closeness that we can have with God the Father, which to this point in salvation history was simply unheard of. 

 

   So, how should we understand the Trinity?  It's a question many Christians ask.  Catholic doctrine teaches that there are three persons in one God who all share the same nature.  Remember that we are talking about three persons in one God; not three gods, or three faces of one god. Three persons, one God.  St. Patrick tried to explain it with a shamrock.  Each section is distinct, and yet each is of the same nature of "shamrockness" as the other sections within the flower.  Yet the analogy falls short because the shamrock can be divided into three parts, and God cannot.  Here's another analogy: You can have three business partners in one venture.  Each has the ability of the other two - to sell, to hire, to lease, etc.  Yet, each is distinct.  This gives us the idea of how three persons can share the same abilities and do all things together, and yet remain distinct.  This analogy falls short as well, for the partners existed before the partnership and could “be” without it, whereas the three persons of the Trinity could never be apart from each other.  Also, whereas business partners can do things on their own, the Trinity always acts together.  Our human minds are simply unable to fully understand the Trinity.  That is where Faith comes in--just like in our understanding of the Eucharist – where we are taught  that Jesus is really and substantially present--body, blood, soul and divinity--another teaching that is hard to grasp but which we know to be true, since it was revealed to us by Jesus.  And, where Jesus is, so are the Father and the Holy Spirit.  There is a special dynamic at work here:  Father loving Son; Son loving Father totally and unconditionally from all eternity.  And the agent of love between them that is breathed forth is the Holy Spirit.  In prayer, we should be asking God for the grace to be a part of the relationship, the communication, between the three persons of the Trinity-- to be more than a spectator, but rather, an active participant in the very inner life of God.

     There are two main reasons why knowledge of the Trinity should be important to us.  First, it allows us to know more and more about God, and we can't love Him if we don't know Him.  If we truly love God, we will be compelled to know more and more about who He is, not merely who we imagine Him to be.  If we truly love God, we more easily desire to hear His voice, not merely our own.  God shows us who love is.  When we say that God (or the Trinity) is love, what we are really saying is that love is not merely an aspect of God.  Rather, love IS who God IS in Himself - three persons loving each other in totality.  God didn’t create us and then insert love into the picture.  Rather, the love within the Trinity was there from all eternity, and in this love everything else was created, including mankind.

The second reason why knowledge of the Trinity is important for us is that it allows us to know more about ourselves and who we should be.  Since we are created in God's image, the Trinity reveals that we are meant to be in relation with other persons.  We were created to love and to be loved.  Being in relation is part of what it means to be human.  The Sacrament of Holy Matrimony is modeled after the Trinity.  The relationship between parents and children is, too—as are other familial relationships.  The Trinity is our origin and our goal.

 I was at Walmart the other day buying some groceries and I used the automatic checkout—you know, where you are checked out by a machine?  I was thrilled that I could do this all by myself and not have to wait in line for a cashier.  But then it hit me:  I went through the entire store without really having any interaction with another human being.  Those of you who do your banking online know what I’m talking about—it’s the same thing.  I used to know the names and some details about all of the tellers who worked in my bank—and they knew mine.  Now, I barely see them, and really am just a number.  We need to guard against this de-personalization of modern society. The Trinity shows us that we were created to be relational beings.  We were not meant to go through life alone, as a “rugged individual.”  St. John Paul II said:  “Man…cannot fully find himself except through a sincere gift of himself.”  In today’s Gospel, Jesus sends the disciples out specifically to deal with other human beings.  It’s not enough for them to live pious, devoted lives; they must seek out people and bring them to Him.  We must therefore take His instruction to baptize in the name of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Spirit in a very broad sense.  It does not merely refer to our church baptism; it includes the entire work of the church, the process of inviting people to experience the risen Christ in all of its sacraments.  Lastly, the Trinity reveals to us that love is at the essence of each person's calling, and our vocations to marriage, the single life or to the priesthood and religious life are the deepest way of living out that love. 

     The Trinity is our origin and our goal.  Florence Chadwick was a world-class swimmer, the first woman to swim the English Channel in both directions.  In 1952 Florence attempted to swim from Catalina Island to the California coast.  After about 15 hours a thick fog set in. Exhausted, she kept swimming, but finally told her mother who was in a boat next to her that she couldn't go any further.  When they brought her aboard she realized she was just one mile from her destination.  Two months later she tried again.  Just as it had the first time, the fog set in; but this time she kept an image of the shoreline in her mind.  Although equally exhausted this time around, she kept going and succeeded in reaching her goal.   What a difference it makes if we have an image of our destination in mind!  And our image is not a shoreline, but heaven.

 

     You and I sometimes get weary or discouraged and want to stop.  The future seems cloudy and bleak.  But right beyond the fog that is today’s anti-church society is the shore, in this case, the Trinity.  It includes Jesus in his full, glorified humanity--the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity.  The one who promised: “And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”  And it includes God the Father, and the Holy Spirit.  The Trinity, three persons in one God, who we will never fully understand, but who we believe in and worship by faith. 

   Something else we have a hard time understanding is when a young person, full of life and love, is suddenly and tragically taken from us.  Toni Piccinich, a parishioner here, was killed Friday night by a drunk driver.  She was 19 years old.  In situations like this, we cannot help but ask “Why?”  It’s a question we simply cannot answer.  But, just like with the Trinity, when we are faced with something we do not understand, something that doesn’t seem fair, we must rely on our Faith.  We must turn to, and trust in, God.  And we must take comfort in the beautiful words of Jesus in today’s Gospel:  “behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”  Jesus is with us as we grieve.  Jesus is with Toni’s family in this devastating time.  And yes, Jesus is with Toni; more importantly, our faith tells us that Toni is in heaven, with Jesus, and all the angels and saints.

Eternal rest grant unto her O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her.  May her soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

 

 

Good Shepherd Sunday

 When you found out that today was “Good Shepherd Sunday,” or when you heard the opening lines of today’s Gospel:  “I am the Good Shepherd”…  how did it make you feel?  Calm? Warm? Peaceful? Loved?  That’s how it has made me feel in the past too. When I sat down to begin preparing this homily, the first thing I did was google “Good Shepherd.”  Yeah, I know, real pious research right?  Anyway, there were over 4 million images of the Good Shepherd that popped up! No, I didn’t count them, or even look at most of them—it’s just what the Google counter thingy said, and so, being a man of faith, I believed.  J  Painting after painting of this soft image of Jesus, in a long robe, immaculate beard, standing in the middle of a beautiful field or atop a rolling hill, shepherd’s crook in one hand, cute little lamb in the other, surrounded by adoring sheep, with just the hint of a loving smile on His face. You all know what I’m talking about. There are literally thousands – if not millions – of pictures like that; what we might call the “Religious Education” image of Jesus.  And this story of Jesus the Good Shepherd is perhaps the most influential Gospel passage of them all in creating that image.  But, whether we’re reading the Bible, or a post on someone’s facebook page, there is something we must remember:  context matters.  I submit to you that, if we come away from this Gospel passage with that “warm and fuzzy” feeling, we, like the Pharisees to whom Jesus was speaking, have missed the boat.  The Gospel we heard today is not about a meek and mild Jesus.  And it should not conjure up feelings of peacefulness in our minds.  The truth is, the setting for this Gospel reading is far from sentimental.  It is set in the context of confrontation with authority; it isn’t on a quiet hillside, all peaceful and calm, with Jesus standing in the middle of an adoring crowd of disciples and children. No. Jesus is speaking to the Pharisees, the religious leaders who were always trying to trick him and bring about His downfall. In this passage Jesus speaks of wolves coming to snatch the sheep and devour them. He speaks of cowardly hired hands running away to save themselves.  He contrasts those shepherds with the Good Shepherd, who knows and loves his sheep, and who is willing to die a violent death in order to save them.  Jesus is exposing the Pharisees for who they really are—which is anything but good shepherds.  And so, the Jesus in today’s Gospel is less like the “peace be with you Jesus” that we’ve heard about the past two Sundays and more like the “driving the money-changers out of the Temple Jesus.”  Those of you who are my age remember when Chevy Chase did the news on Saturday Night Live, and he’d start off by saying:  “I’m Chevy Chase, and you’re not.”  Here, Jesus is saying to the Pharisees:  I’m the Good Shepherd, and you’re not.” Allow me to explain...

     There are a couple of aspects of the message Jesus is trying to get across that are especially confrontational and scandalous to the Pharisees.  First, he is using an image from Scripture to undermine their authority as religious leaders of the people of Israel. The Pharisees saw themselves as the spiritual guides, and protectors, of the Israelites. But here is Jesus calling himself THE Good Shepherd who will protect God’s flock.  Well, it wouldn’t have taken a particularly clever Pharisee to recognize that Jesus was drawing an allusion here to Ezekiel, Chapter 34, where God spoke through the prophet and warned: Son of man, prophesy against the shepherds of Israel; prophesy and say to them: “This is what the Sovereign LORD says: Woe to the shepherds of Israel who only take care of themselves! Should not shepherds take care of the flock? You eat the curds, clothe yourselves with the wool and slaughter the choice animals, but you do not take care of the flock. You have not strengthened the weak or healed the sick or bound up the injured. You have not brought back the strays or searched for the lost. You have ruled them harshly and brutally.”

     Jesus is making a very clear and direct point here: the Pharisees are the shepherds who have neglected and abused the flock of Israel.  On the other hand, He is the Good Shepherd, who will love the flock--unconditionally, and sacrificially. This was a slap in the face of the Pharisees; a direct and pointed criticism of those to whom Jesus was speaking.  Chapter 9 of John’s Gospel ended with Jesus calling out the Pharisees for their opinions concerning the man born blind—and of Jesus’ healing of him.  That chapter ends with Jesus calling them sinners, and then in the verses that precede ours today in Chapter 10 he goes right into the metaphor of the sheep and the shepherd, calling the Pharisees thieves and robbers.  Even after this, John says that they still didn’t realize what Jesus was trying to say to them.

      Next, and perhaps even more scandalous in the eyes of the Pharisees, Jesus makes a claim that they would have seen as blasphemous. Throughout the Old Testament, God often referred to Himself as the Shepherd of Israel, and to the people of Israel as His sheep.  And now here comes Jesus, saying to the Pharisees that He is the Good Shepherd of Israel—in other words: God.  It is this claim that ultimately leads to His scourging and crucifixion at the insistence of these same Pharisees.  So, despite the paintings and the “Religious Ed.” images we have grown up with, this is not the “warm and fuzzy” Jesus in today’s Gospel.  Rather, it is a harsh and confrontational Jesus; a Jesus with a radical claim, and an image ultimately of death and destruction.  Jesus the Good Shepherd in today’s Gospel is not a calming image at all, but rather, one meant to be disturbing and irritating to His audience--the self-proclaimed protectors of the people of Israel.  It reminds me of when He challenged the authority of the crowd that was going to stone the adulterous woman, when he said:  “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”  It just makes you want to proudly nod your head and say:  “You go Jesus!”

    Now, lest you go away all depressed because I burst your Religious Ed. image of Jesus, let’s stop a second.  My mom used to tell me to always look on the bright side.  In the midst of this image of an antagonistic Jesus, is an image of the beautiful relationship that exists between Jesus the Good Shepherd and his sheep.  A shepherd who loves his flock enough to willingly lay down his life for them, and a flock which has spent so much time with the shepherd, and walked so closely with him, that each sheep immediately knows his voice and trusts him enough to obey him implicitly and do exactly what he says.  And the Shepherd?  Well, He can be that good, that loving, that sacrificial, because He knows what it is to be a sheep. The relationship that Jesus the Good Shepherd has with His flock is a mirror of the relationship that Jesus has with His own Father.  Just as we are the sheep to the Good Shepherd Jesus, He is a sheep to his Heavenly Father.  With God the Father as THE Good Shepherd, Jesus truly is “the Lamb of God.”

    And so our Good Shepherd instructs us – his sheep – to do no more than what He himself did while he lived here on earth: listen to His Father’s voice and do what He asks of us; stay close to Him, and enjoy His unconditional love and mercy.  And, last but certainly not least, spread His good news to the whole world.  

     Today is World Day of Prayer for Vocations.  We all know the crisis we are facing with regard to the lack of both ordained priests and men studying to become priests.  For at least today, let’s join with our brothers and sisters all over the world and pray for vocations—I mean really pray.  After all, we owe these men our very lives—our eternal lives; for without them, there is no Eucharist, no Reconciliation, no representative of Jesus here with us on this earth.  And we need many more priests to keep the Church alive and prospering until Jesus comes again.  So please, everyone, join me now in praying for vocations.  Our Father…Hail Mary…Glory be…

 

Vayan a su Desierto Espiritual

La lectura del Evangelio de este Primer Domingo de Cuaresma nos trae dos preguntas.  La primera es  ¿Por qué fué Jesús tentado por el diablo?  El era el Hijo de Dios.  De la misma substancia con el Padre.  Dios de Dios, Luz de Luz,  Dios verdadero de Dios verdadero.  ¿Por qué tenía Jesús que luchar con Satanás?

  Jesús fué tentado por el Demonio por la misma razón que fué bautizado por Juan: porque, aunque El era Dios, también era un ser humano.  Cuando Jesús vino de Nazaret para ser bautizado  por Juan en el río Jordán, esto se hizo para ser obediente a la Ley y para hacer la voluntad de Su Padre Celestial.  Por supuesto que El no necesitaba la remisión del pecado—El no tenía pecados.  Pero, Jesús era humano. Y El quería que lo vieran y lo conocieran como si estuviera compartiendo la experiencia de la gente común y corriente.  En la medida que era posible para El, Jesús quería ser como todo el mundo.  Después de todo, El nos estaba enseñando a vivir, y ¿cuál sería la mejor manera de hacerlo sino dando el ejemplo?.

  Jesús, siendo uno como nosotros en todas las cosas excepto el pecado, es por eso que se permitió a si mismo ser tentado por Satanás.  Todo ser humano ha experimentado la seducción del diablo.  Todo ser humano ha sido invitado por Satanás a volverse contra Dios y caminar el sendero del exceso y la arrogancia, empezando por Adán y Eva en el jardín del Edén.  Uno no sería realmente humano si nunca hubiera tenido contacto con la atracción del pecado.  Es por  eso que Jesús fué al desierto: para darle al demonio la oportunidad, para experimentar la atracción del pecado que infecta a cada ser humano.

  Los Evangelios de Mateo y de Lucas nos cuentan las tentaciones de Jesús con más  detalles que el Evangelio de Marcos.  Jesús es tentado tres veces: convertir piedras en pan como alimento,  saltar de lo alto del templo para que los ángeles pudieran salvarlo de todo daño, y finalmente, el Demonio le ofrece a Jesús todos los reinos del mundo, si Jesús se inclinara ante él.  Y Jesús resiste todas estas tentaciones, inclusive cuando estaba en un estado más débil.  Jesús fué tentado por el diablo porque El era un ser humano…y porque Jesús se lo permitió. Esta es la respuesta a la primera pregunta.

  La segunda pregunta es: ¿por qué cada año, en el Primer Domingo de Cuaresma nos da la Iglesia la narración de la tentación de Jesús?  Porque la Iglesia nos está enseñando que, durante la Cuaresma, nosotros debemos hacer lo mismo que hizo Jesús; o sea, que se supone que nosotros debemos enfrentar al demonio cara a cara y enfrentar la maldad con la que nos amenaza.  Se supone que debemos reconocer la realidad del Demonio y que, sin lugar a dudas nos persigue.  Y finalmente, y esto es muy importante, tenemos que responder, resistir y rechazar  las tentaciones del Demonio.  Y no hay un lugar mejor para hacerlo que al comienzo.

  Para la mayoría de nosotros aquí presentes, reconocer la realidad de Satanás   no es un problema.  Pero, Satanás ha tenido éxito en convencer a más y más gente de que realmente él no existe, lo cual es el plan de ataque más astuto y peligroso.  Y lo que es más, los ha convencido de que Dios no existe, o que por lo menos no es importante o pertinente, y que son ellos mismos los que tienen que decidir lo que es aceptable o no-aceptable, lo que es bueno o no es bueno.  Ellos son los únicos que pueden decidir cómo vivir.  Esto se llama relativismo moral, pero tan fácilmente lo podíamos llamar “La ley de Satanás.”   Es esta siniestra estratagema que nosotros tenemos que rechazar a cualquier precio.  Es la Cuaresma la época en que debemos armarnos con nuestro escudo y espada para defendernos en esta eterna batalla—realmente una de vida y muerte.                                                 

     Al narrarnos la tentación de Jesús al comienzo de cada Cuaresma, la Iglesia nos está llamando a enfrentar las tentaciones que  afligen a cada uno de nosotros.  La Cuaresma es un desierto espiritual al que entramos cada año, un lugar donde tenemos que enfrentar la maldad que nos aflige, desde fuera y desde dentro.  A diferencia de Jesús, nosotros… somos pecadores.  Nosotros nos hemos rendido, una y otra vez, en cosas pequeñas y grandes, a las atracciones que nos destruyen y que Satanás  pone a nuestros pies.  Nosotros tenemos, en primer lugar, que reconocer ésto, y después, tenemos que hacer algo.

  Hacerle frente a nuestra tendencia al pecado no es algo que nosotros hacemos fácilmente; no es algo que hacemos con entusiasmo.  Admitir que hay algo malo en nuestras vidas es algo de mal gusto.   Tratar de eliminarlo es todavía algo más duro.  Pero, a menos que seamos realistas  acerca de nuestro problema, seguiremos separados de la vida que Dios quiere que vivamos; permaneceremos  debilitados en nuestro compartir en la vida de Cristo.  Como sucede con la gente que son adictos a las drogas o alcohol – el primer paso consiste  en que ellos admitan que tienen un problema. Todos somos pecadores…punto.  Cada uno de nosotros, except uno, nació con la mancha del pecado original.  Y que un ser humano, nuestra amorosa, gloriosa madre María, es un ejemplo brillante para cada uno de nosotros de cómo vivir nuestras vidas.  María tenía una devoción total por su Hijo, y obediencia a Su voluntad y a la voluntad de su Padre Celestial, aun cuando  esto representaba sufrimiento de su parte - desde el principio, cuando se le dejó saber que iba a tener un hijo a fuera del matrimonio, hasta el final amargo y agonizante, cuando estuvo al lado de su Hijo cuando lo azotaban y cuando sufrió una horrible muerte en la cruz.  La vida de nuestra Madre en el cielo es la vida que cada uno de nosotros está llamado a imitar.

     Nuestra primera lectura y salmo responsorial de hoy se refieren al convenio entre Dios y Su pueblo.  No es un contrato.  Los contratos se refieren a cosas.  Los convenios son acerca de la gente, acerca de las relaciones.  Dios y Su pueblo.  Un hombre y su esposa.  La Cuaresma es también acerca de relaciones.  No es acerca de cosas.  No se refiere al chocolate o a la soda, ni siquiera a la carne que nos negamos.  Es acerca de nuestras relaciones con el Todopoderoso Dios, y cómo, cuando nos negamos a nosotros mismos esas comodidades , estamos pasando tiempo en nuestro desierto spiritual, junto a Jesús, purificándonos, preparándonos para nuestra vida eterna con Dios y todos los ángeles y santos.  Si usted no ha entrado a su desierto todavía, por favor comience hoy.  Niéguese  usted mismo,  rechace a Satanás, fortalezca sus relaciones con Dios.  Arrepiéntase y crea en el Evangelio.  El fin realmente va a justificar los medios.