AI Apocalypse

 

Living on the edge of the eternity expecting Christ

11/25/2025

Luke 21:5-11 While some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings, Jesus said, "All that you see here– the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down." Then they asked him, "Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?" He answered, "See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, 'I am he,' and 'The time has come.' Do not follow them! When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end." Then he said to them, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place; and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky."

In 1993 the rock band Aerosmith released one of their biggest hits called “Livin’ on the Edge.” Now, I love classic rock but that song is bizarre on many levels to say the least. And even though it makes me cringe, I mention it because it contains a kernel of truth, namely, there is a sense in which we must always be “livin’ on the edge.”

As the song suggests, sober and sane Christians should also be “livin’ on the edge” in the sense that the world could end at any time and Jesus return in glory. That is, no matter what activity we are engaged in – sleeping, eating Thanksgiving dinner, working, or even relaxing on vacation – we should be prayerfully vigilant that we are standing on the edge of the end of the world.

I am not recommending that we become anxious or paranoid but rather have a healthy sense that this world is not our final home. The liturgy and the Masses this week make us especially cognizant of “livin on the edge.” How so? Well, we are in the 34th week of Ordinary Time, the last week of the church calendar year. This week is liturgically “the edge” as we conclude the “Year of Luke”, and this coming Sunday commence with the “Year of Matthew.”

That is, we are standing chronologically on the edge about to move from Year C in the church calendar to Year A of the three-year cycle. And the readings from Daniel and Luke are apocalyptic in tone reminding us that all that we see, hear, touch, taste, or smell will come to an end. The Scriptures and sacraments sort of push us to the edge of all that exists and invite us to look over the edge and glimpse eternity.

In other words, the readings this week – if we are paying attention – are intended to cause a certain dizziness or vertigo. And this “edge of eternity” is where Christians are called to live at every moment; indeed to feel comfortable and at home there. I don’t know if Jesus would be a fan of Steven Tyler and Aerosmith, but he might agree that we are constantly “livin’ on the edge.”

He warns his disciples as they gazed admiringly at the massive Jerusalem Temple, which they thought would last forever: “All that you see here – the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.” Like the liturgy of the 34th week and the lyrics of Aerosmith, Jesus pushes his disciples toward the edge of eternity and invites them to live there in constant vigilance.

You know, I have been watching the rise of AI – artificial intelligence – with both fascination and foreboding. I am sure you have too. For example, I am fascinated by AI and yesterday I used it to create a picture of me shooting pool with my old friend, Fr. Trung Nguyen to pose on Facebook with my homily. And I also used it to compose a letter for our upcoming new pictorial directory. So we can put AI to many good uses.

On the other hand, I also feel some foreboding regarding AI because I recently heard it described as “the last invention”. Why? Well, because AI will be able to anticipate and even invent things that human intelligence and ingenuity will be too slow and sluggish to figure out.  And naturally, there is no shortage of movies or books fictionalizing how AI could take over the world and even destroy humanity which it may perceive as a threat.

But when I hear about how apocalyptic AI can end up being, I sort of yawn and think, “So what?” Now, some people, even Catholics, maybe react shocked, and say: “Fr. John, don’t you care about the rise of AI? This could spell the end of humanity?!” And my answer would be “Exactly. Didn’t you get the memo?” This edge of eternity is where Jesus calls us to live and even feel comfortable.

Indeed, we could apply Jesus’ words in the gospel to our modern world: “All that you see here – the days will come when there will not be a stone upon another stone.” My friends, do you know that we practice for the end of the world and the coming of Christ at every Mass? Sacramentally-speaking Jesus comes to earth in every Eucharist to reign as King.

And we should be prepared to receive him with clean hearts by going to confession and enthrone him in our hearts at Holy Communion. Every Mass is a dress rehearsal for the end of time and an invitation to be “livin’ on the edge.” And that should give us great peace, even in the face of an AI apocalypse.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Ball Close to Pocket

 

Cherishing the history and heritage of Vietnamese martyrs

11/24/2025

Matthew 10:17-22 Jesus said to his Apostles: “Beware of men, for they will hand you over to courts and scourge you in their synagogues, and you will be led before governors and kings for my sake as a witness before them and the pagans. When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you who speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you. Brother will hand over brother to death, and the father his child; children will rise up against parents and have them put to death. You will be hated by all because of my name, but whoever endures to the end will be saved.”

My first brush with the heroic faith and fortitude of Vietnamese Catholics came in seminary when I met Trung Nguyen. Like most Vietnamese men, Trung was somewhat short, had straight black hair, and a sly smile, like he knew something that you did not know.  And Trung taught me how to play pool or billiards.

Like a typical beginner, I liked to hit the cue ball really hard so if the solid or stripped ball landed in the pocket, it made an impressive bang. It rarely landed in the pocket and instead caromed off unpredictably. But Trung taught me: “Hit the cue ball softly and accurately and then even if you miss the shot, the solid or stripped ball would stay close to the pocket for your next shot.”

After seminary and ordination, Fr. Trung earned a degree in canon law, served as rectory of St. Mary’s Seminary in Houston, and is now pastor of Sacred Heart of Jesus Church in Manvel, Texas. Even though Fr. Trung plays pool with soft hands, his character has profound strength, with far greater power than the flashy pool shots I tried to make (and missed). And the same can be said of virtually all Vietnamese Catholics: they speak softly but have an unshakable faith and fortitude. They always leave the ball close to the pocket, meaning they always stay close to Christ.

Today we celebrate the feast of St. Andrew Dung-Lac and Companions, Vietnamese martyrs. I was still in seminary at the University of Dallas playing pool with Trung Nguyen when on June 19, 1988 Pope St. John Paul II canonized 117 Vietnamese martyrs at St. Peter’s Basilica. I still remember how moved Trung was during those days of the canonization. In fact, he wrote his history thesis for his bachelor of arts degree on the martyrdom of the 117 Vietnamese martyrs.

You see, Trung Nguyen was cut from the same cloth as these heroic martyrs for the faith. They were not flashy Christians but they were unshakable Christians. And no amount of torture, punishment, imprisonment, and executions could deflect them from their determination in following Jesus. Just like Trung kept the ball close to the pocket, so these Vietnamese martyrs stayed close to Christ.

Let me give you a sample of their strength. In the 18th century Dominican and Jesuit missionaries spread out across Vietnam to share the gospel of Jesus Christ. But the emperor of the Nguyen Dynasty felt the Catholic missionaries were a threat to the empire. To discourage conversions Christians were branded on the face with the words “ta dao” literally meaning “unorthodox religion.” And whole families and villages who had converted to Christianity were obliterated.

I did a quick internet search and discovered this: “In January of 1833 a new kingdom-wide edict was passed calling on Vietnamese subjects to reject the religion of Jesus and required suspected Catholics to demonstrate their renunciation by walking on a wooden cross.” By the way, if someone threatened you with torture, imprisonment, or execution, would you walk on the cross of Christ to save yourself? I don’t know about you, but I can barely give up coffee for Lent as a sacrifice for Jesus.

And many of the Vietnamese martyrs suffered betrayal by family and friends as Jesus foretold in the gospel today: "Brother will hand over brother to death, and the father his child; children will rise up against parents and have them put to death." For example, Fr. Ignatius Delgado was turned over to the authorities by local villagers and put in a cage for public display and mockery. He died of hunger and exhaustion while awaiting his execution.

And what about St. Andrew Dung Lac? He was born in 1795 and took the name “Andrew” at his baptism. He was ordained a Roman Catholic priest on March 15, 1823. He was executed by beheading during the reign of the Emperor Ming Mang. My friends, I am just giving you a glimpse of the heroic history and holy heritage of Vietnamese Catholics, like the Vietnamese sisters and parishioners who join us for morning Mass.

Their faith was not tested in the classroom, or courtroom, or in congress, but on the Cross and in martyrdom. And I could sense that invincible faith and fortitude even when I played Trung Nguyen in pool. And he always beat me because he kept the ball close to the pocket.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Apollo Stole My Heart

 

Turning our deep wounds into our great strengths

11/18/2025

Luke 19:1-10 At that time Jesus came to Jericho and intended to pass through the town. Now a man there named Zacchaeus, who was a chief tax collector and also a wealthy man, was seeking to see who Jesus was; but he could not see him because of the crowd, for he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree in order to see Jesus, who was about to pass that way. When he reached the place, Jesus looked up and said, “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house.” And he came down quickly and received him with joy. When they saw this, they began to grumble, saying, “He has gone to stay at the house of a sinner.” But Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Behold, half of my possessions, Lord, I shall give to the poor, and if I have extorted anything from anyone I shall repay it four times over.” And Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house because this man too is a descendant of Abraham. For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost.”

Not a day goes by that someone doesn’t ask me about my dog, Apollo. They either want to express their sympathy about his death or inquire when I might adopt a new dog. And every time they do the pain of losing him and the sad circumstances surrounding his death all come flooding back and break my heart. I was at a personnel board meeting a few weeks ago and Apollo came up in conversation. Bishop Taylor captured my feelings perfectly, saying: “They steal your heart.”

But I have noticed a beautiful blessing in carrying this burden of Apollo’s suffering and death: I feel greater sympathy and compassion for other people’s suffering and loss. You have heard the old adage: “It takes one to know one,” meaning one’s own wounds create a closeness with others’ pains and problems. The great Swiss psychiatrist, Carl Jung, called this the phenomenon of “the wounded healer.”

That is, a psychoanalyst is compelled to treat patients because the psychoanalyst himself is wounded. By the way, I don’t if you have heard this statistic before, but 82% of applied psychology graduate students and faculty in the U.S. and Canda experienced mental health conditions at some point in their lives.

In other words, wounds are not necessarily a weakness but in fact a sign of strength and even a particular power of healing. That is, instead of ignoring people who ask about Apollo or burying my feelings, I try to keep that wound alive and fresh so I can help and heal others who suffer. Apollo may have stolen my heart, but he has given me a new heart, a wounded but more loving heart.

In the gospel today we hear about a man whose particular weakness becomes the occasion for his greatest blessing. Luke notes that Zacchaeus was “short in stature” so he climbs a sycamore tree to see Christ, who in turn spots him perched like a bird on a branch. And Jesus says glorious words of salvation: “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house.”

Luke also notes importantly that Zacchaeus was the chief tax collector and a wealthy man. Now, why was that detail important? Well, I wonder if sometimes Zacchaeus saw his small size as a crutch and a cross. And perhaps he suffered from the Napoleon Complex: how short people feel inferior and so need to dominate others in order to assert their superiority.

But Jesus tells him to “come down” and stop pretending to be great perched on a tree, and helps him not run from his special wound and weakness – his diminutive size – but to embrace it. Why? So he could feel closer to others who suffer. Perhaps Zacchaeus felt like a wounded healer when he said: “Behold, half my possessions, Lord, I shall give to the poor.” In other words, don’t bury this burden of your shortness but embrace it as a source of deep compassion for others who suffer. Why? Because “it takes one to know one.”

My friends, sooner or later we all suffer some kind of wound or weakness: the death of a beloved dog, the loss of a family or friend, perhaps a divorce and failed marriage, or the loss of a job, maybe you move to another city or state and lose your community. You may be afflicted with some debilitating disease. And eventually old age catches up with all of us and we lose our physical strength and our mental acuity. And you may react like I did with Apollo’s death: ignore it, bury it, and forget about it. We don’t want anyone to steal our hearts again.

But perhaps the point of life is not simply to protect ourselves from pain. Instead, maybe that pain of loss and grief will teach us a deeper kind of love and compassion for others who hurt? In other words, maybe our hearts were made to be stolen – like Apollo stole my heart – so that our old hearts can be replaced with new hearts, better hearts, more tender and caring hearts.

Every morning when Apollo was alive we had a specific route that we walked around the rectory, school, and church. I prayed my rosary, and Apollo sniffed around for the perfect place to poop. We both dutifully did our respective morning chores. Now, every morning I still walk that same specific route but now I smile at the cats who are no longer afraid of me. Did you see what happened? Apollo stole my heart and took it to heaven, and left me a better heart to love those who suffer, even stray cats.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

No Kings Reloaded

 

Appreciating how humans inevitably serve someone

11/23/2025

Luke 23:35-43 The rulers sneered at Jesus and said, "He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God." Even the soldiers jeered at him. As they approached to offer him wine they called out, "If you are King of the Jews, save yourself." Above him there was an inscription that read, "This is the King of the Jews." Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us." The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, "Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." He replied to him, "Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise."

A couple of weeks ago I preached a homily called “No Kings Marches.” Did you happen to hear it in person at Mass, or perhaps read it on Facebook? In that homily I argued that while democracy is wonderful for societies and civil government, it clashes with Christianity and Church government. Why?

Well, because in the Church we find not a democracy but a hierarchy – deacon, priest, bishop, pope – and at the top of this ladder of authority we find Jesus Christ, the King of Kings. But after I preached and published that homily, I got a lot of push back from people who felt I was misguided, and I was misguiding other people.

Well, folks, guess what feast we celebrate today? It is none other than “Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe”! I hope there are no protesters outside this Sunday walking along Garrison Avenue in a “No Kings March” upset about today’s feast of our King. So I want to take another stab at explaining why hierarchy fits our faith better than democracy does.

All three scriptures today speak loudly about kings and kingdoms. In 2 Sam 5:3, we read: “The elders of Israel came to David…and they anointed him king of Israel.” St. Paul writes to the Colossians in the second reading: “[God] delivered us from the power of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son.”

And in the gospel, the good Thief acknowledges Jesus as King, and humbly requests: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” In other words, when we have a robust understanding of kings and kingdoms – when our social paradigm is a hierarchy – the Bible comes alive. But if we approach the Scriptures with the social construct of a democracy, it remains largely a closed book.

Another advantage of thinking hierarchically instead of democratically is we begin to perceive how we all serve someone. That is, we will either serve Jesus as King, or we will serve some other king. And, by the way, no one knows this servant paradigm (or hierarchical model) better members who belong to Alcoholics Anonymous.

AA’s first two Steps are very telling: “(1) we admitted to we were powerless over alcohol,” meaning they became servants to alcohol. And “(2) We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” That is, they choose to be servants to the Almighty instead of alcohol. Recovering alcoholics are the happiest people you ever meet because they have discovered the joy of being servants of a good King.

We can see another common example of serving a king when a boy falls in love with a girl. How so? Well, the boy does the will of his new queen instead of what he wants. Heck, he will even go to church and Mass with her just to make his queen happy. And after they get married and have children, they both become servants of their tiny new masters.

Mom and dad serve their children gladly and lovingly by losing sleep, working two jobs, sacrificing their own pleasures and pursuits to put their kids first. And when they have grandchildren, they become indentured servants. Some even move to Northwest Arkansas and make the supreme sacrifice of not coming Mass at I.C. in Fort Smith. Seriously?

Why do parents make all of these sacrifices for their children and grandchildren? Simple: they have discovered one of the greatest truths of being human, the same truth the good Thief discovered hanging on the Cross, namely, to be human is to be hierarchical. We all serve someone. The only question is “Who do you serve?”

One of the most iconic scenes in the Old Testament is the moment when Joshua leads the Israelites into the Promised Land and makes a covenant between them and God. Many Christians proudly display Joshua 24:15 in their homes to remember that ancient covenant and acknowledge that hierarchy fits our faith better than democracy does. How so?

Well, because the only way to enter a covenant with God is to accept him as a King and to serve him. You see, God and man are not two equals who enter into a social contract in some sort of democratic arrangement where we vote on what we want and veto what we don’t want. Rather, we are sinners in need of a King to save us from slavery to other masters.

Listen to Joshua 24:15 in full: “If it is displeasing to you to serve the Lord, choose today whom you will serve, the gods your ancestors served beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites in whose country you are dwelling.” And then comes the money verse which everyone knows by heart: “As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

In other words, choosing a king and serving him in his kingdom is the inescapable, hierarchical human condition. Why? Because we all serve someone – heck, even those walking in No Kings Marches serve someone, their kids and grandkids. The only question is “Who do you serve?”

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Arrows in His Quiver

 

Welcoming Deacon Quinton Thomas to I.C. Church

11/17/2025

Luke 18:35-43 As Jesus approached Jericho a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging, and hearing a crowd going by, he inquired what was happening. They told him, "Jesus of Nazareth is passing by." He shouted, "Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!" The people walking in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent, but he kept calling out all the more, "Son of David, have pity on me!" Then Jesus stopped and ordered that he be brought to him; and when he came near, Jesus asked him, "What do you want me to do for you?" He replied, "Lord, please let me see." Jesus told him, "Have sight; your faith has saved you." He immediately received his sight and followed him, giving glory to God. When they saw this, all the people gave praise to God.

In my homily this past Sunday I mentioned one of our seminarians named Joshua Osborne. Today I want to mention another seminarian, namely, Deacon Quinton Thomas. A couple of weeks ago, Bishop Anthony Taylor announced that Deacon Thomas would be assigned to our parish for his final phase of formation, called “Vocational Synthesis.”

That is, for his final six months as a seminarian he will live at the rectory and participate in the life of Immaculate Conception Church as a deacon, and "synthesize" his vocation as a priest. And I must admit I am very happy to have Deacon Thomas here next Spring. He will be here from January 2 till June 30, when he will be assigned as an associate pastor to some fortunate Arkansas parish.

We are his last stop before priestly ordination. So, if you have ever wondered in frustration: “Why don’t they teach priests certain things in the seminary?!”, well, here is your chance to have a hand in the training of a future priest. So, stop complaining. One arrow in Quinton’s rather full quiver of talents is his gift and penchant for languages.

In an interview with the Arkansas Catholic, he said: “I would say that my Spanish and French are proficient. We just got to go to Italy, so that was my first time to actually try Italian, to try really using it….I can get by in Italian pretty decently well.” So, Quinton has already mastered four languages: English, Spanish, French, and Italian.

But it gets better, Quinton continued: “I was at St. Patrick Church in North Little Rock…and a friend paid for Vietnamese lessons for me. I took a semester of Vietnamese through an online school in Saigon. And then I do classical languages – my Latin and Hebrew are OK.” I wish my Latin and Hebrew were “OK”. In other words, Deacon Quinton will be a priestly polyglot: someone who knows and uses several languages.

Quinton was born and raised in Jonesboro, Arkansas at Blessed Sacrament Church. Quinton has wanted to be a priest as long as he can remember. He wrote in an article on his vocation: “Asking why I wanted to be a priest would probably have been just as nonsensical a question as why I liked ice cream or the color red.” That is, diocesan priesthood is part of Quinton’s DNA.

And so he entered seminary right out of high school. That is another arrow in Quint’s quiver. How so? Well, in seminary we called such guys “lifers” because seminary and priesthood is all they have ever done in life. More men these days, however, are going into seminary after having lived a little, and seen what life is all about.

One benefit of being a lifer is that Quinton will be ordained at the age of 26 or 27, and be able to give his youth to the people he serves as a priest. How wonderful to have a young, energetic, intelligent priest to engage with young Catholics. I am a lifer, too, and was ordained at 26. For a long time as a pastor I was younger than most of my congregation. That is not the case anymore.

Yet another arrow in Quinton’s quiver is a joyful faith. He remembers his first Holy Communion with humor. He reminisced: “I remember from the steps of the altar back to my pew I felt an overwhelming and physical joy, an uncontrollable smile that I was embarrassed of because no one else seemed to be reacting that way. So I put my hand over my face so only God could see it.”

You might remember in Exodus 34:35 that Moses covered his face with a veil after speaking face to Face with God. That still happens today, 3,500 years later. In the gospel today we see another disciple with a joyful faith, like Dc. Quinton’s. A blind man is healed by Jesus. And how does he react? We read: “He immediately received his sight and followed him, giving glory to God.”

The blind man, however, did not cover his face with his hands but let everyone see his joyful faith. And how did the people react? Again we read: “When they saw all this, all the people gave praise to God.” In other words, joy is contagious. I suspect that is how I.C. parishioners will feel next Spring as we see the mighty works God in Dc. Quinton, and we witness his “uncontrollable smile.”

On a more practical note, Dc. Quinton will be able to preach homilies at Sunday and weekday Masses – you’ll get a break from me! – in both English and Spanish. As a deacon, he will preside at funerals and weddings outside Mass. He will be able to bless your homes and your rosaries and your cars and your cats.

I have no doubt he will be a delightful dinner guest. And you can practice your English, Spanish, French, Italian, Vietnamese, Latin and Hebrew when he comes over for dinner. And maybe he can even teach you some archery, because after all, Dc. Quinton has a lot of arrows in his quiver.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Mouths of Men and Machines

 

Choosing to follow Jesus and ignoring other voices

11/16/2025

Luke 21:5-19 While some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings, Jesus said, "All that you see here-- the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down." Then they asked him, "Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?" He answered, "See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, 'I am he,' and 'The time has come.' Do not follow them! When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end." Then he said to them, "Before all this happens, however, they will seize and persecute you, they will hand you over to the synagogues and to prisons, and they will have you led before kings and governors because of my name. It will lead to your giving testimony."

Sometimes people’s words can leave a deep impact on us, even if they are just joking. I will never forget how several years ago I bought a new Chevy Impala. I ran into Jeff Meares and wanted to show off my new car. He asked: “What are you a nun or something?” Have you noticed how monastery parking lots are full of Chevy Impalas? I never noticed that till he said it.

Another friend had a really rich response when I got inexpensive (cheap) new tires for my Nissan Rogue. She remarked: “Hey, awesome, you got girl tires. At Christmas I’ll buy you some real tires.” We like to think, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” And that is true for jokes.

But sometimes words can do far more damage, and then it is no joke. A few weeks ago one of our seminarians, Joshua Osborne, called to interview me for a discussion about polarization in society and in the church. How words are deeply dividing our country and our congregation. He asked how I handled hot-button topics like the Charlie Kirk assassination and the mass deportation of immigrants?

I admitted that it was indeed very hard to express the teachings of the Church accurately in today’s culture. Why? Well, because many people have already made up their minds as to their beliefs and don’t need me to teach them. They are either “conservatives” or “liberals”. They happily agree with some things I say, “Yay!” or angrily dismiss other things I say, “Boo!”

Joshua explained to me that today people tend to align themselves with “mega-groups”, that is, categories or labels that encompass one’s entire social identity and value system.” That is, the words of podcasters and politicians shape some Catholics' beliefs and behaviors more than the words of the Church.

This past week the United States bishops met in Baltimore. The out-going president, Archbishop Timothy Broglio, shared this comment: “In October I mentioned to Pope Leo XIV that some of our faithful listen more readily to sound bytes, the sirens of political discourse, or whatever confirms their conclusions and partisan leanings instead of hearing their pastors and us [bishops].” That is, the words of sound bytes do a lot of damage when they distort the true Christian faith.

In the gospel today, Jesus warns his followers whose words they should carefully avoid. He urges: “See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am he,’ and ‘The time has come.’ Do not follow them.” You see, in every age words from conservatives or liberals, traditionalists or progressives try to usurp the place of Jesus and his Church. They pretend to be more important than what the gospel teaches.

I was visiting some very devout elderly Catholics recently. And after dinner we were watching TV. The elderly man suddenly remarked: “You know, President Trump doesn’t like Pope Leo. I don’t think he’s a very good pope either.” You see, the words of a mere man mean more to some Catholics than the words of the Vicar of Christ.

My friends, we live in the Information Age, the Age of Words. Anything we wish to know is immediately at our command through the words of Alexa or Siri or ChatGPT. We swim in an infinite sea of words and endless data that can in effect drown us so we no longer hear the imperative words of the gospel and the Church.

But even all the millions of words of men put together will not finally bring us the peace, joy, and truth we seek. Only the Word of God, Jesus Christ can do that. And that Word of God abides in the Scriptures and the sacraments faithfully proclaimed up and down the ages by the Church. In other words, the words of men can indeed harm us when they attempt to replace the Word of God.

Can I give you some very serious and rather hard homework today? When you go home, for an hour, turn off your television and radio; unplug your computer; switch off your phone (not just to vibrate mode either); remove your apple watch; take your air pods out of your ears; and unplug Alexa, Siri, or Gemini. For one solid uninterrupted hour shut the mouths of men and machines, and do not let them utter one word.

Then in that golden silence, open your Bible and turn to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, and read the unfiltered Word of God. Only in the Word of God, Jesus Christ, will you find the peace, joy, truth and eternal life you are looking for. And then you may also discover the infinite difference between sound bytes and Scripture, and know which one you should follow.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

No Kings March

 

Seeing how Christianity is counter-cultural to democracy

11/11/2025

Luke 17:7-10 Jesus said to the Apostles: "Who among you would say to your servant who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, 'Come here immediately and take your place at table'? Would he not rather say to him, 'Prepare something for me to eat. Put on your apron and wait on me while I eat and drink. You may eat and drink when I am finished'? Is he grateful to that servant because he did what was commanded? So should it be with you. When you have done all you have been commanded, say, 'We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.'"

The Christian faith is deeply counter-cultural, and this contrast with contemporary culture has been highlighted by the recent No Kings Marches around the country. Now my purpose is not to score any political points but rather to make a theological one. Ever since the American Revolution of 1776, when we threw off the yoke of tyrannous King George III, Americans have championed democracy, or rule by the people.

We have fought wars in defense of democracy; we have supported economic policies in favor of democracy; and have helped overthrow despotic governments to promote democracy. And so the No Kings March follows in the same vein, regardless of whether you personally feel it is right or wrong-headed. Democracy is the irresistible cultural current in which we American fish swim.

But democracy is exactly the wrong lens through which to understand Christianity. A better lens is hierarchy, which flies in the face of the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence, “that all men are created equal.” I tried to explain this underlying hierarchy in creation to a Bible study group who called me from Florida with some questions about the angels.

I said that God created the cosmos with natural superiors and inferiors. At the top of the hierarchical ladder stands God, below him on the next rung are the angels, below the angels are humans, and below man are animals, and below them are plants, and finally at the bottom are the rocks and other inanimate matter. Inanimate literally means “without souls.”

The harmony, happiness, and holiness of the entire cosmos require every inferior to obey and submit to its natural superior. And that hierarchical harmony is precisely what the angels disrupted and tried to destroy when they rebelled against God, and fought their Revolutionary War.

Revelation 12 describes this angelic rebellion when Satan, the first fallen angel, swept a third of the stars – meaning 1/3 of the angels – from the sky. We might say Satan led the very first No Kings March to overthrow the reign of God as their king. Incidentally, you might enjoy reading C. S. Lewis’ book A Preface to Paradise Lost, and the chapter simply called “Hierarchy” if you want a deep dive into this topic of hierarchy versus democracy.

The reason I am going to all the trouble to explain the difference between democracy and hierarchy is not only because it makes Christianity hard to understand, but it makes the Bible opaque as well. For example, in today’s gospel Jesus speaks about masters and servants.

And those categories immediately sound like nails on a chalkboard to the ears of people who walk in a No Kings March, that is, to modern American saturated in democracy. Indeed, Jesus’ take-home message will sound utterly nonsensical, even offensive, to democratic Americans: “When you have done all you have been commanded say, ‘We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do’.”

In other words, Jesus calls Christians to be like salmon and swim upstream against the modern democratic cultural current. As C. S. Lewis puts it: “The goodness, happiness, and dignity of every being consists in obeying its natural superior and ruling its natural inferior” (92). The Bible makes more sense the more we think hierarchically and the less we think democratically.

We find the same hierarchical principle operative in the Church and in the liturgy. The priesthood is ordered in a hierarchy of authority: deacons at the bottom, then priests, bishops, cardinals, and the pope at the top. The harmony of the Church depends on the inferior obeying the superior. Can you imagine the chaos that would be unleashed if the deacons organized a No Kings March in Rome protesting the prerogatives of the pope?

The movements of the liturgy, at Mass, all the kneeling, sitting, standing reflect the hierarchy of the human priest and the divine Priest, Jesus. That is why we genuflect on one knee when we come into church and enter our pew. That is why deacons bow before the priest and ask his blessing before reading the gospel. That is why altar servers are called “servers.” And they should leave Mass repeating what Jesus said in the gospel, “We have done what we were obliged to do.”

My friends, the moment we step out of our cars and into a Catholic church, we step into a very undemocratic world. The flood waters of modern democracy that have washed over the entire world ever since the American Revolution may splash against the doors of the Church, but do not dare to enter. And if you have been imbibing that cultural Kool-Aid, then when you walk into Mass, you will feel very much like a fish out of water.

Praised be Jesus Christ!