Today’s Gospel is generally known as Jesus’ “Sermon on the Plain” and it is Luke’s version of Matthew’s “Sermon on the Mount”, commonly known as the “Beatitudes”. While many think that these two are different interpretations of the same event, they are most likely two different events as Jesus would have preached with this theme often as he journeyed throughout Judea.
So, what is a “Beatitude”?
We might replace “Blessed are those …” with “Favored are those …”, and so a beatitude might be considered a measure of “Blessedness”, or a definition of what God considers as the measures of holiness in His people. In his beatitudes, Jesus also tells us “how” people would be blessed if they possess this measure of holiness – their “reward”, if you will. Jews of the time believed that the measure of God’s favor was reflected primarily in earthly measures of health, wealth, and procreativity. We see this throughout the Old Testament, especially in the Psalms like in Psalm 1 and Psalm 40 which were included in the responsorial psalm for today.
But Jesus’ measure blessedness was counter-intuitive to the Jewish belief at the time. And this can be seen in both Matthew’s and Luke’s Gospels.
Matthew lists 9. They and their corresponding blessing are:
1. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
2. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
3. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
4. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
5. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.
6. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
7. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
8. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
9. Blessed are you when men revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so men persecuted the prophets who were before you.
Luke only lists 4, which correspond roughly to Matthew’s first, second, fourth and ninth ones.
1. Blessed are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.
2. Blessed are you that hunger now, for you shall be satisfied.
3. Blessed are you that weep now, for you shall laugh.
4. Blessed are you when men hate you, and when they exclude you and revile you, and cast out your name as evil, on account of the Son of man! Rejoice in that day, and leap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven; for so their fathers did to the prophets.
But unlike Matthew, in addition to the blessings, Luke also includes warnings for those who fail to pursue them:
Blessed are you who are poor / Woe to you who are rich.
Blessed are you who are now hungry / Woe to you who are filled now.
Blessed are you who are now weeping / Woe to you who laugh now.
Blessed are you when people hate you / Woe to you when all speak well of you.
Does this mean that you should not be rich, or well-fed, or happy, or thought well of? No, of course not. But they do present a warning to living a life that is comfortable and the consequences if you live that life unaware of the challenges others face in this life. (Maybe instead of saying, “… you will be …”, it should read “… you should be …”, which would better reflect how we should identify with those who are experiencing these states of life.)
It also means that if you are suffering today from poverty, hunger, depression, isolation or discrimination, God still loves you and has something better in mind for you.
Scholars also point out there’s a difference in focus in how Luke presents his blessings and woes.
Luke’s blessings and woes address the real economic and social conditions of humanity (the poor vs. the rich; the hungry vs. the satisfied; those grieving vs. those laughing; the outcast vs. the socially acceptable).
By contrast, Matthew emphasized the religious and spiritual values of disciples in the kingdom inaugurated by Jesus (“poor in spirit,”, “hunger and thirst for righteousness, and so on.”) But in all instances, there will be a reversal of fortunes as measured in the heavenly kingdom to come for those who cannot identify with those who are less fortunate.
And we don’t have to “earn” God’s blessings. We, through God’s Love, are already blessed. But if we are blessed, then we should take to heart what can happen if we don’t appreciate His blessings, and if we don’t recognize from whom those blessings stem. Like Jeremiah: “Cursed is the one who trusts in human beings, but blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD”. If we depend on others for our prosperity, good health, or other earthly blessings, we not only risk disappointment but we may miss out on the true blessings that come from God.
We are all already blessed. But we should understand that true blessings do not come from what we have here on Earth but in what we will receive in Heaven. And we don’t want to lose what God has already promised us.
Like the question I asked earlier, a priest-friend of mine likes to ask this question of children and adults alike: What is a Beatitude? His answer: It’s an Attitude to Be. If we profess to be Christian, then others should recognize us as Christians by how we live out these beatitudes, these blessings. By our Love.
Those of you who were ever on an ACTS Retreat with Hector Cardenas before he passed away might remember one of his favorite adages:
“My point to you is, Life should not be about working through your To Do List, but is all about working through your To Be List!” Most of us, if we even made a list of New Year’s resolutions have already cast them aside, and if you’re like me you have a to-do list of tasks to accomplish at work or honey-do things at home. But it isn’t what we accomplish that is important to God. It is who we are that is.
God didn’t create Human-Doings, He created Human-Beings. Let your humanity show just how God has blessed you. And if you don’t feel blessed today, remember Paul’s letter to the Corinthians: God will bless you when it counts the most – in heaven, for all eternity.
Monday, February 14, 2022
The Blessed of God
Sunday, January 2, 2022
Journeying with the Magi
Happy New Year! Merry Christmas! Happy Epiphany.
Today we celebrate all three – the Christmas season, the beginning of the New Year, and the Feast of the Epiphany of the Lord. In the United States the Epiphany is celebrated on the Sunday between January 2 and January 8, which this year means today, January 2nd.
But elsewhere in the world, the Epiphany is celebrated on January 6th – the twelfth day of Christmas, and that’s when gifts are exchanged, not Christmas. In case you didn’t know, the song about the 12 Days of Christmas was actually written to teach the Catholic faith during a time in England when Catholics were being persecuted. And NO, don’t ask me after Mass what each day means – I can’t even sing the song without the Muppets singing along with me.
It is common that most years we reflect on the Epiphany as being the first of three incidents where the divinity of Jesus was revealed to the world, the other two being at Jesus’ baptism and the miracle at Cana. But this year, there have been three questions which have occupied my thoughts:
• When did the Magi come to see Jesus?
• Why did the Magi come?
• Why did I come here today?
First, when did the Magi come?
I was asked this question by one of our parishioners a week or so ago, and I admit that for most of my life, I’ve equated the coming of the Magi with Jesus still being in the manger – sort of like visiting hours at the local maternity ward. The shepherds came, oohed and aahed over the newborn, then went home to make way for the next set of visitors – the Magi entourage. We even include them in our manger scenes – like the one in front of our altar.
But most scripture scholars agree that that wasn’t the case. It is generally accepted that they had come from Persia, a thousand plus mile journey. In a caravan. With an entourage. Following an astrological phenomenon. Which takes time. And scriptures also give us a hint that they didn’t arrive that holy night. They visited Jesus, Mary and Joseph in their home – or at least in a house where they were staying, not in a stable with Jesus in a manger. And given Herod’s reaction to the news of Jesus’ birth by condemning all boys under 2 in the area to death where he was supposed to have been born, most scripture scholars believe that Jesus was somewhere between 1 and 2 years old by the time he was visited by the Magi.
Which leads to the second question: Why did the Magi come?
Today’s Gospel says that they came to homage to a newborn king. But why? After all, they weren’t Jewish, and Jesus wasn’t “officially” of royal lineage of the time like Herod was. Remember, rulers usually came from royal dynasties, and in Herod’s case we know of at least five in his royal dynasty during the time of Jesus: Herod the Great; his sons Archelaus and Antipas; and the grandkids Agrippa I and II.
And while we might talk of the Magi as “kings”, they were more like scientists, educated in astronomy and astrology, and they were probably motivated more by the spiritual and metaphysical significance of the star than by its political aspects. Also, since the use of the “gifts” they brought is not discussed anywhere else in the Bible and we normally only reflect on their Christological meaning (that is, Jesus’ royal humanity, His divinity and His mortality), they obviously were more symbolic than substantial. Yet still the Magi came. Why?
My thought? Because they wanted to see the fulfillment of ancient prophecies concerning a birth that would affect the entire world. And they would be EXCITED! Whether there were 3 wise men or 30 in their caravan, I’m sure they all would have been caught up in the excitement of their discovery.
Think about how we feel when we come across something that we think is important to our state in life. Such a discovery could change everything for us. We might travel thousands of miles just to be able to experience it, although it would be a much quicker trip since we’d most likely travel by plane or car. For example, think about the millions of people who travel to see the Pope whenever he is near enough to visit.
But still, why did they come? After all, even if Jesus was two years old, I’m sure he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Although I’ve known some two-year-olds that can carry on a very lively conversation – rarely could I understand a word they were saying. Of course, the Magi would be able to talk with our Blessed Mother and Joseph, and I’m sure that discussing the Holy Family’s spiritual encounters with angels would have left their minds and hearts open to the angelic encounter that warned them not to go back to Herod.
Which brings me to my final question: Why are we here today? Because we are now obligated to attend Mass?
Our presence at Mass should be more than our fulfilling an obligation. We just finished a year of uncertainty where, for much of it, we were not obligated to come to Mass. Many couldn’t come; others chose to participate vicariously by watching live-streamed Masses on TV or the Internet. And while that is better than nothing, it is hard to develop a relationship with the living God if you do not have a relationship with His people.
So why are we here? To feed on the Body of Christ in the Eucharist and in God’s living word? Of course! But I think there should be more to it than that. The Magi came to give homage to a new-born king, not to get anything. And like the Magi, we should come to Mass to give homage - adoration - to our king.
Can you imagine if the Magi had said, “What a pretty star! I’m sure it is important to the Jewish people, and since there’s nothing on TV this weekend let’s take a trip to see a new-born king. “
We, like the Magi, should be EXCITED to be here. And like the Magi, we should be seeking Jesus in new and unexpected ways. Like the star that lead the Magi to where they knew the Christ-Child would be, we come to Mass because we know that He is present here, at Mass, especially in the Eucharist.
Oh, sure. Sometimes the homily is BORING. Or there’s little distractions running around or crying which can interfere with my ability to focus. Of course, if you see me smiling on the altar it’s usually because of them. I love children at Mass. By the way, if Jesus was about 2 when the Magi arrived, I’m sure he didn’t just sit quietly while the adults talked. At least few of the 2-year-olds that I know could or would do that. In fact, since the Magi would know about how old Jesus would be when they arrived, I’ll bet they probably played with him.
But the journey of the Magi is OUR journey – to seek out Jesus and, in our case, discover where Jesus lay hidden in our lives. And we find him in the Mass. The REAL Jesus. The Jesus that we can interact with. The Divine Jesus.
Do we recognize the divinity of Jesus today? More importantly, if the Epiphany was the divine revelation of Jesus for the Magi, have we had our own moment of Epiphany with Him? Our faith tells us that He is present in His Word and in the Eucharist, but do we see Him at other times in Mass – or for that matter elsewhere in our daily lives? Where do we look for Him? Most importantly, do we know what is leading us to Him?
The Magi came because the star offered them HOPE. That sign of hope should be the Mass for us as well. Do we see Mass as a sign of hope, like the Magi did with the star?
As we proceed into this New Year, we should ask ourselves that last question over and over: why am I here? Am I prepared to have an “Aha!” moment – an Epiphany – where I encounter the risen Christ? Am I willing to do the things I need to do – to journey – in order to see Him? Can I overcome the fear of the change that encounter may require of me? Will I see Him today?
You can see Him. Just do not be afraid to look
Sunday, December 19, 2021
The Blessing of Visitations
Twas the week before Christmas, and all over the earth,
People were preparing to celebrate Christ’s birth.
Joining again with family and friends
In celebration of the nearing of this year’s end.
Some would be traveling, the first time in two years
As last year they battled CoVid fears.
And most importantly, although some might not agree
Coming to Mass, once again from fear, set free.
On the 4th Sunday of Advent each year, we get one of three Nativity stories: last year was the Annunciation story from St. Luke of the angel Gabriel visiting the Virgin Mary; the year before that was the story of the angel visiting St. Joseph in a dream, and this year, the story of Mary visiting St. Elizabeth. So, in a sense, all three stories are visitation stories of sharing the good news of the imminent arrival of Jesus.
In today’s Gospel, we also hear about being blessed. Elizabeth says to Mary: “Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.” Luke 1:45
It is similar to another passage in Luke’s Gospel, when in response to a woman in the crowd who had called out to him, Jesus replied with: “(B)lessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.” Luke 11:27-28
In fact, throughout both the Old and New Testaments there are blessings which echo what John said in the Book of Revelation: “Blessed is the one who reads aloud and blessed are those who listen to this prophetic message and heed what is written in it, for the appointed time is near.” Revelation 1:3
There’s two parts to the blessings which flow forth in each of these passages – first we have to hear and listen, then we must respond to what we have heard.
The first part should be the easiest. Week after week we come to Mass to hear God’s Word. Some of us also pursue God’s Word on our own, through reading of the Bible and other spiritual books, or through electronic media such as the podcasts from Fr. Michael Schmidt and his “Bible in a Year” presentations or Bishop Robert Barron’s recordings offered through his Word on Fire institute. We “hear” and “listen”, but how do we respond?
We must Observe. We must Heed. We must Believe. Most importantly, We Must BELIEVE.
When St. Joseph received his message from the angel in his dream, he took Mary into his home because he believed what the angel said. When Mary responded with her “fiat” to Gabriel, “let it be done to me according to your word”, she responded because she believed. When the infant John leapt in Elizabeth’s womb announcing the presence of Jesus in Mary’s womb, Elizabeth knew what it meant because she believed what she felt.
Sounds like the message from the movie, “Polar Express”, when at the end of the movie the young lad who received the golden ticket for the train Tom Hanks punches it with the word, “Believe”.
But just because Mary believed, why did she go to Elizabeth?
I think it was because Elizabeth was the one human person she knew who would understand what she was experiencing. She probably felt an affinity – a connection – with Elizabeth, because she knew that Elizabeth had also experienced a type of miracle conception. Elizabeth, who in her old age was considered barren, was pregnant. And Mary knew that divine intervention was involved in both situations. The angel Gabriel had told her so. And Elizabeth, although not yet a mother herself, could offer her guidance on the practical matters associated with pregnancy that, frankly St. Joseph could never do. Any man who thinks he can tell his wife what to expect when she gets pregnant takes his life into his own hands.
And so she went “in haste”. Why so quickly?
From the moment of her conception, Mary was filled with the Holy Spirit and when you are filled with the Holy Spirit, you want to proclaim it with great joy. And who better than to someone who would understand? The mere fact that the angel Gabriel told her about Elizabeth would have been a sign to Mary that she needed to go to her relative in all haste.
It’s sort of like when we receive a gift (like at Christmas) that can best be appreciated only when it is shared – whether it be a video game, a new set of golf clubs, or new clothes. A gift that cannot be shared will never bring as much joy as one that can. And Jesus is the ultimate gift shared with the world by God his Father.
What about us? Every year at Christmas we receive a renewal of the gift of faith through our participation in the birthday of Jesus, and it is a time for us to remember others who need the gift of his presence more than ever. And these last two years should really bring that home, given the isolation so many have experienced, not to mention the losses of loved ones, of jobs, of our peace of mind.
And there is no better gift than to share the love of God with those most in need of His mercy. There is no shortage of those who need that love. All you have to do is look around you. So let us go in haste to those around us: first to those who are closest to us – our family and friends, then to all we encounter. This Christmas, let us truly be the Light of Christ to all we meet. Seek out those who are in darkness. Be their Light.
And then, as Tiny Tim might say, God will bless us, every one.
Sunday, November 14, 2021
Four Calls to Action
Four Calls to Action
November 14, 2021 33rd Sunday of OT - B
by Dcn. Bob Bonomi
It seems that ever since my ordination almost nine years ago, I have been blessed each year with preaching on one of the last two Sundays of Ordinary Time.
Since these Sundays usually deal with the topic of eschatology, or the End Times and what to expect when we meet Jesus face to face in his 2nd coming, in the past I’ve emphasized Jesus’ words from today’s Gospel:
"But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father"
and I’ve referred to the number of false prophecies concerning the end of the world or the number and magnitude of tragic events which the world has experienced during the last 2000 plus years.
So, in preparing for Mass this weekend, I went back to see what God said to me in the past about the Sunday readings for today, and I was particularly struck by what was at the beginning of my homily in 2015 – six years ago.
“Based on what we see in our movies, it appears that we have a fascination with the end of the world, and we have created all sorts of apocalyptic visions of it – world destruction by earthquakes, floods or asteroids; nuclear destruction; epidemic or pandemic disease outbreaks; or my favorite – zombie invasions.”
Pandemic Outbreaks? I would have never thought that just 4 short years after that homily our world would face one of the worst pandemics in recent history – and no, I’m no prophet like Daniel.
I can hardly believe that it has been almost two years since we first heard of CoVid and entered into a global pandemic which, to date, has directly or indirectly claimed the lives of over 5 million people worldwide. During the pandemic’s peak activity there were those who were sure that we were definitely entering into the End Times prophesied by Daniel; and there were others who, while certain that the world wasn’t ending, thought it would be the “end of the world as we know it”, to quote the movie “Chicken Little”.
But while the residual effects of the pandemic linger on, signs of God’s Mercy and Love are once again at work – indeed they have been at work all along. Slowly the world is beginning to resume a sense of normalcy in day-to-day life. Businesses are bouncing back and there are jobs available for those who are seeking work. People are beginning to break free from their isolation and gather in groups, even traveling to see family and friends as many of you will be doing come Thanksgiving.
Even before the Bishop’s announcement this weekend of the lifting of the dispensation from Mass obligations beginning with Advent, more and more people have been returning to Church to feed their hunger for the presence of God in their lives. And the outpouring of love and charity to those most affected by the pandemic by those who were moved by the Grace of God has been a source of great hope.
In both our first reading from the prophet Daniel and today’s Gospel from St. Mark, we are reminded that there will be more trials and tribulations to come, beyond our current pandemic. In the face of these challenges, we are called to bring hope to others, and we need to embrace that hope ourselves. So, here are 4 ways we are called to respond to the current pandemic and to the future challenges we will face.
1. We are called to Community. This doesn’t mean we need to live in the hippie “communes” of the 60’s and 70’s in order to draw closer to God; it means that we can best experience the presence of God through other members of the Body of Christ in community. We had that taken away from us by the pandemic and we had to work at maintaining a sense of community. We held ZOOM meetings and used social media to stay in touch. I even know of one group that met in a park and keep socially distant by sitting in lawn chairs six feet apart, almost yelling to each other to be heard. Satan wants to isolate us, but we cannot allow anything to keep us from each other – or from God.
2. We are called to Charity. The pandemic has had a devastating effect on not only the health of individuals but on their livelihoods. Many despaired of finding relief from their challenges. While there were many agencies that tried to help, it was through the charitable efforts of individuals that the needs of many were filled. Satan wants us to be selfish with our time, our talents and our treasures, but we must always be open to the movement of the Holy Spirit and reach out in charity whenever we see someone in need.
3. We are called to Courage. Despite the fear generated by the various media outlets and in spite of the warnings and legal efforts of governmental powers to the contrary, many individuals placed their personal lives at risk by physically attending to the needs of those with CoVid or other issues. Unfortunately, as a result some died. But like St. Damien of Molokai, they served willingly, without counting the cost. Satan wants us to be afraid and trust in no one, but we must have the courage to overcome our fears and trust in God, whatever the cost.
4. We are called to Love God. While the first three “calls” above are important, nothing is more important than our Love of God – the 1st Commandment. And the #1 way to show our Love is through how we worship Him. In the name of safety, our normal ability to worship God in our Sunday liturgies was restricted and even discouraged, leaving us to find alternative ways to show God our love through live-streaming of Mass or other social media outlets.
Satan wants us to neglect God and he places obstacles between us and Him, but we must always seek ways to prioritize our worship of God and to draw closer to Him in spite of these obstacles. The Eucharist is the source and summit of our faith, and while nothing can replace it we must take advantage of any opportunity to express our love for God through worship until we can receive Him in the Real Presence.
Yes – even at the risk of our lives, we must worship God. If our mission on earth is to draw people to Jesus, how can we truly fulfill that mission if we don’t place Him first in our hearts and our lives? And if we are afraid to worship Him, how can we say He is first in our hearts?
As we reflect on how we move forward to “normalcy” in the weeks and months ahead, let us respond to any current or future challenges through the four calls to action above. Let us find a new “normal” in which God is #1 in our lives and we no longer fear the trials and tribulations that will certainly arise again in the future. Let us draw others to ourselves and to God through love and charity.
God is always near, and as our psalm today says, He will show us the path to life, to fullness of joy, to His delights forever.
So remember: Community. Charity. Courage. Love.
And the greatest of these is LOVE. No matter who you are or what you are experiencing, God loves you. And He will always love you. Forever.
Sunday, October 24, 2021
I Want to See
So we turn to our parents, our friends, our teachers, or others that we consider knowledgeable, or “experts”, especially in the fields of science, technology, medicine or finance. And when we’ve exhausted all of our human resources for help, we turn to the oracle of all wisdom – the Internet.
And if something is explained to us and we do understand it, we might respond with the old adage which was derived from the gospels, “’Ah’, said the blind man. ‘Now I see!’”
But what happens when something is thoroughly explained to us and we still cannot “see” the answer? What do we do? Should we just accept what is told to us, trusting in the source of the information? Or can we just ignore it? Maybe.
What if it is something that weighs heavily on our hearts, a problem that is beyond all earthly understanding, such as in the case of “why do bad things happen to good people?”
Maybe we or someone we love has suffered from a major illness. Or maybe involved in a tragic accident or other catastrophic event. Maybe we’re trying to recover from some sort of terrible emotional trauma.
When that happens, we really want to know “why”. We want to “see” or understand. At some point in our lives, I believe that those of us of faith have all called out to Jesus to make clear something that we didn’t understand. I say those of us of faith, for those who do not have faith have no higher authority to turn to other than the limited knowledge of man, and they must depend only on earthly solutions to their problems. And when that fails them, they can lapse into depression – or even despair.
And in those cases that are beyond human understanding, there is only one place left to turn – God.
As a blind man, Bartimaeus could only “see” through the eyes of others, and he was totally dependent upon what was shared with him through his begging. In Mark’s gospel, we don’t know how long Bartimaeus had been blind, or what caused his blindness. Maybe it was the result of an accident. Maybe, he had been blind since birth.
Think about how Jesus responds to his disciples in the story of the man born blind in John’s Gospel (Jn 9:2-3). Jesus is walking with his disciples when they pass a man blind from birth and they ask him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus tells them, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”
In Jewish beliefs of the time, afflictions like blindness were seen as a punishment for sin – either the person’s own sin or possibly the sins of his parents. Maybe Bartimaeus even thought that he deserved to be blind. But like the good thief on the cross, his sinfulness did not stop him from asking for mercy. Neither should we.
When something happens in our life that we don’t understand, it always – ALWAYS – has the potential to showcase the works of God.
And so it is with Bartimaeus. In today’s Gospel, Bartimaeus recognizes that Jesus has the power to heal and so he calls to him for mercy. Those around him, maybe thinking he was getting what he deserved as a sinner, tried to quiet him. Yet he calls all the louder, “have pity on me.” When Jesus asks him "What do you want me to do for you?", he simply says, "Master, I want to see."
Notice that Bartimaeus doesn’t ask to be cured of his blindness directly. He asks to “see”, and while we might assume that that means being cured, it has an even deeper meaning when we realize that “seeing” also means “understanding.”
Jesus sees – he understands – that Bartimaeus has faith, and grants him his request. He tells Bartimaeus to “Go your way; your faith has saved you." What does Bartimaeus do? Did he go back to where he was?
No. Immediately he followed Jesus.
We must also be careful what we pray for. If, like Bartimaeus, we ask to see, we must be ready to embrace the responsibility for what we see.
In Bartimaeus’ case, think about what that must have meant for him. In his blindness, Bartimaeus probably had little responsibility beyond trying to meet his basic needs through begging. There would be little he could do for others, if for no other reason than he couldn’t “see” their needs.
But once his eyesight was restored, he would most likely not be able to use begging as an effective way to make a living any more. Despite the wretchedness of being blind, there was also a certain comfort level in the routine of his life, which was changed forever. He might be able to now “see” physically, but now he also needed to “see” with the eyes of faith. And just like he had faith that Jesus could heal his blindness, he had faith enough to know that the way he needed to go was to follow Jesus.
What a challenge for us! When we turn to God in order to understand – to see – what is happening around us or to us, we are also asking in faith to “see” the world through God’s eyes.
But in order for that to happen, we must first be willing to “see” the challenge – the cross – of whatever that we have asked God to help us understand, and then at least for an understanding of how it can serve God. And that isn’t easy.
BUT! If we call out like Bartimaeus, “Lord, I want to see" and our eyes are opened, then we then have the responsibility of seeing through the eyes of Jesus. We cannot remain blind to the suffering of others. We must allow our healing to lead to God’s Glory. We must be willing to follow Jesus.
Like the words of the song, “Open the eyes of my heart, Lord. I want to see You”, we are asking to look deeper into the will of God. And once our eyes are opened, then we must help others who are “blind” to see Jesus, too.
Sunday, September 12, 2021
A Future of Hope
Today’s Gospel presents us with the paradoxical reality of our Christian faith: Save our earthly life and risk losing eternity; or risk our earthly life and save our souls for all eternity. And there may be no better Gospel for us to reflect on today as this weekend we remember the tragic events that occurred 20 years ago, on September 11th, 2001.
Sadly, I’m a member of a generation that has seen the end of two major conflicts for our country – Vietnam and Afghanistan - neither with a great sense of victory. And while there are those who claim that the Afghanistan conflict was the longest war in our country’s history, it is not. There are still those alive who remember the Korean War, which started over 70 years ago and which, technically, has never ended as it remains under a truce - no peace treaty was ever signed.
But for us Christians, that is merely a drop in the bucket of time, for we have been at war for over 2000 years. In fact, as children of God we have been at war even longer than that - since beginning of creation. It is a spiritual war, not just physical. St. Paul points out in his letter to the Ephesians: “(O)ur struggle is not with flesh and blood, but with the principalities, with the powers, with the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the heavens.” (Eph 6:12)
THAT’S the real war.
Spiritual warfare is a different kind of battle, to be sure. And we are all engaged in it, whether we realize it or not. Pope St. John Paul II once said that “The only war that we must all fight is the one against evil.” We enlisted in that war when we first professed our discipleship to Christ and were baptized into our faith. How we fight that war is our real challenge. And the cost is steep – no less than our lives.
St. Mark reminds us of that in today’s Gospel, in which Jesus teaches us about the cost of discipleship and the price that we pay for our faith. He will be put to death for teaching love and peace; we too face threats to our earthly lives if we are to seek peace in our world. Jesus said, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it.” The price of victory is earthly death - and the reward is eternal life.
Wars always end in destruction and death – by their very nature they are contrary to nourishing life. And despite what people may say, no armed conflict has a “winner” – inevitably there are innocent lives lost on either side.
So what are we to do? Choose not fight? No, but we pick our battles, and we pray for God’s guidance in our decisions and actions, and strength to overcome the challenges we face.
And after the fight is over, we remember.
We remember what we were fighting for, whatever the battle. We remember those who we have lost, so that their sacrifice will not have been in vain. We remember that God is with us, so that we can hope for a brighter tomorrow.
Most importantly, we remember that Christ has already won the war.
In John’s Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples after they have promised their loyalty to him: “Do you now believe? The hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, every man to his home, and will leave me alone; yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me. I have said this to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”
Shortly after it was declared that the war in Afghanistan was "officially" over and that all Americans were leaving that country, someone came up to me and expressed the opinion that all we did in Afghanistan was fruitless. I disagree. During the last twenty years, through the efforts of individuals – soldiers, aid workers, local caring citizens – the lives of many have been given a taste of hope, the promise of a future, an education – an opportunity to know Jesus and the Good News. It has not been perfect, but seeds were planted. And a world was made aware of the plights of the people who might otherwise be forgotten.
Did the world listen? Some did. The efforts of those helping those who are refugees fleeing from their homeland are true reflections of Christian faith. And as St. James points out, it is through our efforts, our works that others – and ourselves – are saved. “Faith, of itself, if it does not have works, is dead.” It is not an “either / or” decision, as some would have us believe. It is a “both / and” one. We are called to both faith and works together, according to God’s will.
Pope St. John Paul II said it well: “It is not enough to say we are Christians. We must live the faith, not only with our words, but with our actions.” If we have faith in God – if we trust Him – then it will show through our efforts to help and serve others. In times of conflict, in times of tribulation, in times of adversity, we must work for peace.
And God offers us hope and the promise of a better future, as seen in one of my favorite scripture passages by the prophet Jeremiah: “For I know well the plans I have in mind for you—says the LORD—plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope. When you call me, and come and pray to me, I will listen to you.” (Jeremiah 29:11-12)
That’s what God offers us – a future of hope. A future of joy. A future of peace.
Let me conclude with Pope Francis’ prayer from his 2015 visit to ground zero in New York, in memory of those who lost their lives in those tragic events 20 years ago in New York, in Pennsylvania and at the Pentagon – as well as those who have lived with the impact of those events even up to today. The prayer is appropriate also for those facing tragedy from natural disasters or other catastrophic events today as well:
“God of peace, bring your peace to our violent world: peace in the hearts of all men and women and peace among the nations of the earth.
Turn to your way of love those whose hearts and minds are consumed with hatred, and who justify killing in the name of religion.
God of understanding, overwhelmed by the magnitude of this tragedy, we seek your light and guidance as we confront such terrible events.
Grant that those whose lives were spared may live so that the lives lost may not have been lost in vain.
Comfort and console us, strengthen us in hope, and give us the wisdom and courage to work tirelessly for a world where true peace and love reign among nations and in the hearts of all.”
Amen.
Sunday, August 22, 2021
You Only Have to Believe
With today’s Gospel we hear the conclusion of St. John’s sixth chapter, which we have been reflecting on for the last several weeks. While the synoptic Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke give us an understanding of the institution of the Eucharist through their accounts of the Last Supper, John gives us the spiritual insight to truly understand the meaning of the Eucharist itself, presented in Jesus’ own words.
First, a quick recap. Our Sunday Gospel readings began 5 weeks ago with Jesus feeding over 5,000 people with a few simple barley loaves of bread and a couple of fish. They continued the next week with Jesus walking on water, joining his disciples in the boat as they battled a stormy sea in the night. Then, three weeks ago, John introduced Jesus’ “Bread of Life” Discourse. Last week, since we celebrated the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, we missed the middle of the Jews’ confrontation with Jesus over his command to “eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood”, but today, we hear the end of the exchange – resulting in many of Jesus’ disciples abandoning him.
Suppose you were alive at the time of Jesus, had seen many of his miraculous signs and heard his preaching. Then, all of a sudden you hear his insistence on having to “eat his flesh and drink his blood” in order to have eternal life. How would you react? Would you believe him? Would you understand what he meant?
In today’s Gospel, many didn’t understand nor believe. So why did the Apostles remain? Did they understand what Jesus was saying any better than any of the other disciples? I don’t think so.
So why didn’t they leave too? Simon Peter sums it up: “We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.”
According to a 2019 Pew research report that is often quoted by Catholics and non-Catholics alike, only 31% of Catholics believe in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Less than a third of all Catholics today believe in what the Church professes as the “source and summit” of our faith.
But there is a difference in believing and understanding.
The early Church Fathers had no problem believing in the Eucharist. St. Ignatius of Antioch, at the end of the 1st century, less than 100 years after Jesus’ resurrection, stated in a letter to the Romans, “I have no taste for corruptible food nor for the pleasures of this life. I desire the Bread of God, Which is the Flesh of Jesus Christ, who was of the seed of David; and for drink I Desire His Blood, which is love incorruptible.”
St. Justin the Martyr, describing the Eucharist in his First Apology about the same time, said: “For not as common bread nor common drink do we receive these; but since Jesus Christ our Savior was made incarnate by the word of God and had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so too, as we have been taught, the food which has been made into the Eucharist by the Eucharistic prayer set down by Him, and by the change of which our blood and flesh is nourished, is both the flesh and the blood of that Incarnated Jesus.”
St. Irenaeus of Lyons just a few years later, stated in his letter Against Heresies: “For as the bread from the earth, receiving the invocation of God, is no longer common bread but the Eucharist, consisting of two elements, earthly and heavenly.”
These are but a few examples by those early founders of the Church – and each died a martyr’s death because of their belief. Their belief in Jesus Christ – and their belief in the Eucharist.
Does that mean that they understood the spiritual mechanics of Transubstantiation? I don’t know, but I doubt it. Frankly, I’m the first to admit that I certainly cannot understand the power of God. But I’ve personally experienced miracles that have defied explanations and I have seen the power of God in action, so I don’t have to understand how or why God does what He does – but I believe.
Now I’m a scientist and an engineer at heart and while I can peer into the depths of the universe and see God’s infinite power at work, I cannot explain the mechanics of some of His simplest creations. But I’m fond of using analogies to explain to myself things I cannot understand, and I use a simple one for the Eucharist. Once upon a time I worked in the uranium mines in New Mexico, and there really wasn’t a lot of difference between uranium ore and the surrounding rock which contained it, at least visually. You could tell if you had a Geiger counter, but otherwise, they looked the same. But, if you take a piece of radioactive ore and place it beside something that isn’t, pretty soon the non-radioactive piece would become radioactive. It wouldn’t change visually, but it has changed nevertheless.
The bread and wine may not look or taste different, but infused by the Holy Spirit called down by the priest, they have changed. It’s a poor analogy, to be sure, but it works for me.
So we can choose to believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, even if we don’t understand how it happens. And if we believe, then our actions should reflect that belief. But do they? Sadly, often they don’t.
I would like to say that I’m amazed at how some people approach the Eucharist in Communion, but I’m not. I’ve been there myself. I’m actually more amazed by the respect shown by some who come forward to receive than by those who don’t. You see it in their eyes. There is a joy – a grace – that shines on their face, and there’s a sense of reverence in their presence. I see Jesus reflected through them. I want that for me.
But it sometimes seems that as soon as I leave the building, I lose that – presence – of Christ in me. I can lose it once I get into my truck and have to wait for parking lot traffic to clear. I can lose it when I change the focus of my thoughts on what I think I need to do immediately after Mass. And, if I’m not serving on the altar, I can lose it in the short time it takes me to return to my pew.
It’s tough, isn’t it? But we should strive to remember that, if we choose to believe, then we should act like we believe. And maybe the easiest way to do that is to pretend that we are carrying Jesus on our shoulders after we have received him. (Actually, it isn’t pretending, except that instead of on our shoulders close to our heads, we have him inside us, close to our hearts.) And if the thought of Jesus sitting on your shoulders isn’t enough to help you focus on his presence, then talk to him about it. Say to him, “Jesus, help me to overcome whatever it is that is distracting me from you.”
One last comment on today’s readings. While there’s often a direct link between the 1st reading and the Gospel on most Sundays, today I think there’s an even greater link between the 2nd reading from St. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians and today’s Gospel from St. John: they can both be hard to understand. But rather than try to explain what Paul was trying to say, I’m just going to refer you to a podcast by Fr. John Riccardo called “God’s Love Made Visible” – you can find it for free just by googling it. I encourage all married couples – and especially those planning on getting married – to listen to it. I’ve never heard this particular passage explained better. Ever.
And remember. When you come forward for Communion, you are coming forward to place Jesus next to your heart and to take him into the world with you. You don’t have to understand Transubstantiation to be a good Catholic. You only have to have faith – and believe.