Wednesday, March 6, 2024

Pelted with Popcorn

Forgiving others from the heart with prayer

03/05/2024

Mt 18:21-35 Peter approached Jesus and asked him, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times. That is why the Kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who decided to settle accounts with his servants. When he began the accounting, a debtor was brought before him who owed him a huge amount. Since he had no way of paying it back, his master ordered him to be sold, along with his wife, his children, and all his property, in payment of the debt. At that, the servant fell down, did him homage, and said, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back in full.’ Moved with compassion the master of that servant let him go and forgave him the loan. When that servant had left, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a much smaller amount. He seized him and started to choke him, demanding, ‘Pay back what you owe.’ Falling to his knees, his fellow servant begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.’ But he refused. Instead, he had him put in prison until he paid back the debt. Now when his fellow servants saw what had happened, they were deeply disturbed, and went to their master and reported the whole affair. His master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you your entire debt because you begged me to. Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant, as I had pity on you?’

Which is easier to say, “I am sorry,” or to say “I forgive you”? Well, I think the answer depends on how old you are. That is, when we are children we get into trouble a lot, and then it is hard for us to say “I’m sorry.” A couple of weeks ago our second graders made their first reconciliation in preparation for their First Holy Communion. And they were sweating bullets. One priest friend of mine likes to say that hearing first confessions is like being pelted with popcorn.

But as we get older the tables are turned. We find ourselves as the offended party, and someone else coming wit hat in hand to ask for our forgiveness, our mercy, and our compassion. And even if we can muster the humility to say “I forgive you,” it is often done through gritted teeth and our hearts are a million miles away. In other words, we hold grudges. How hard it is to fully forgive someone! It does not feel like we are pelted with popcorn, but rather cut up by a machete. That is why the old saying goes, “To err is human, to forgive is divine.” Why? Well, because it takes super-human, divine grace to fully forgive someone. It is God-like.

One Sunday a preacher was addressing the subject of “forgive your enemies.” He asked for a show of hands of how many people in the pews had forgiven their enemies. About half raised their hands. He preached on for another twenty minutes and asked again, and eighty percent raised their hands. Another thirty minutes of pounding the pulpit got about everyone, except one elderly lady, to raise their hands.

The preacher singled out the lone holdout, saying, “Mrs. Jones, are you not willing to forgive your enemies?” She replied sweetly, “I don’t have any.” Amazed, the preached asked her to come up to the front, and said, “Mrs. Jones, how old are you?” She proudly answered, “Ninety-seven.” The preached asked, stunned: “Mrs. Jones, how can someone live to be ninety-seven and not have any enemies?” She turned to the congregation and said, “Easy. I outlived all those sons of guns.”

In the gospel today Peter asks Jesus a very important question about forgiveness, namely, how many times must we forgive? And Peter thinks he’s being very generous by adding: “As many as seven times?” But Jesus replies: “Not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” In other words, he is trying to teach Peter that “to err is human but to forgive is divine.” And precisely what makes forgiveness so divine is its limitless, inexhaustible character. And it wasn’t just Peter who learned that lesson, but so too did his successors, the popes, down the ages.

Probably the most dramatic example of papal forgiveness was Pope St. John Paul II. Some of you may recall on May 13, 1981 in St. Peter’s Square Mehmet Ali Agca shot Pope John Paul II two times. But the pope visited him in prison, and not only forgave him, but requested clemency for Agca, which the Italian President Carlo Ciampi honored and extradited Agca to Turkey in 2000. More amazingly, in 2007, Agca converted and became Roman Catholic. And that is why we must forgive: to save souls, beginning with our own.

May I share with you what I do when I get sideways with people? I simply say one “Hail Mary” for them when they’re really getting under my skin. I have found that it is hard to pray for someone and stay mad at them simultaneously. There is not enough room in the human heart for prayer and grudges at the same time. They are like oil and water, mutually exclusive.

But prayer does more than that. It helps me to see that other person who hurt me through God’s eyes. And I believe God sees us all as little children who don’t know our right hand from our left hand, and are just stumbling along doing the best we can. In other words, God sees us like that priest who hears small children’s first confession and feels like he’s being pelted with popcorn.

Perhaps you can think of someone who has hurt you today at Mass and pray for them. It will help heal your heart. Like Pope St. John Paul II did with Ali Agca, it may help your enemy get to heaven, and help you, too. And don’t just try to outlive the sons of guns.

Praised be Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ!

The Jeweler’s Shop

Appreciating every person we meet daily

03/05/2024

Lk 4:24-30 Jesus said to the people in the synagogue at Nazareth: “Amen, I say to you, no prophet is accepted in his own native place. Indeed, I tell you, there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah when the sky was closed for three and a half years and a severe famine spread over the entire land. It was to none of these that Elijah was sent, but only to a widow in Zarephath in the land of Sidon. Again, there were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.” When the people in the synagogue heard this, they were all filled with fury. They rose up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town had been built, to hurl him down headlong. But he passed through the midst of them and went away.

Recently, I was elected by my brother priests to serve for five years on the Personnel Board for the diocese. The Personnel Board advises the bishop about possible changes of priests from one parish to another. So, if there is a priest you don’t like and want to get rid of, just let me know and I will pass it along to the bishop. Now, there is an unwritten rule of the Personnel Board that we do not send a priest to be pastor of the parish where he grew up. For example, Ben Keating is currently a seminarian for our diocese, but he is from Immaculate Conception. After he is ordained, therefore, the bishop will probably never assign him as the pastor here. Why not?

Well, because of what Jesus says in the gospel today: “no prophet is accepted in his own native place.” And to be a prophet means to preach the hard truth, tough love, the things people do not want to hear but desperately need to hear. And that is why the people of Nazareth – Jesus’ hometown – are ready to throw him off “the brow of the hill on which their town had been built” because he told them the hard truth about their lack of faith. In other words, when we grow up with someone- even someone like Jesus, or Ben – we feel like we already know them and what they have to say. We don’t feel they have anything new or exciting to teach us, or we don’t like what they have to teach us.

Every week I receive a phone call or a visit from parents worried about their children. And invariably they will ask, “Fr. John, would you talk to Johnny or Susie about his drinking, or baptizing my grandkids, or going back to Mass, etc.?” Why do these parents want me to talk to their children? Because they feel like Jesus in the gospel today and know “no prophet is accepted in his native place,” especially in his or her own home. Children stop listening to their parents like the people of Nazareth didn’t listen to Jesus.

I have been pastor here at Immaculate Conception for over ten years, and you parishioners know me pretty well by now. You are very familiar with my preaching style, and sometimes, you even know what I am going to say before I say it. You have read my books, and you have listened to my homilies on Spotify. You could virtually write my homilies for me – but you wouldn’t get up at 4:30 a.m. to do it!

But try to recall what it was like when I first arrived here back in December, 2013. When you first saw this Indian-looking priest behind the altar, you probably feared the worst: “Oh no, he’s going to talk in some thick Indian accent and I’ll never understand a word he says!” But I’ve faithfully done my accent reduction exercises and now almost talk with a Southern twang, like all a ya’ll. But after ten years here, this parish now feel almost like “my native place,” and so it’s easy for you to tune me out when I say something disagreeable. Oh, there goes Fr. John getting on his soapbox again.

I will never forget when Venerable Archbishop Fulton Sheen said, “Jewelers get used to handling fine diamonds.” I believe that comment cuts to the heart of Jesus’ point in the gospel today. Each person in our lives – children, parents, pastor, etc. – is a precious diamond – and Jesus is the only flawless Diamond – and we have to take great care not to get used to them and take them for granted. Try not to tune them out when they say something we don't like or want to hear.

So, here’s your homework for today, and really for the rest of your life. Get up every morning and see yourself as going to work in a jeweler’s shop. Imagine every person you meet as another priceless jewel and try not to get used to seeing such stunning beauty every day. Let me leave you with C. S. Lewis’ words in his celebrated essay, “The Weight of Glory,” “It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddess, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship.” My friends, look around you, you are in the jeweler’s shop right now. Don’t get used to these fine diamonds.

Praised be 

Daddy’s Home

Preparing our homes and hearts for Jesus’ return

03/04/2024

Jn 2:13-25 Since the Passover of the Jews was near, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves as well as the money changers seated there. He made a whip out of cords and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, and spilled the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables, and to those who sold doves he said, “Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.” His disciples recalled the words of Scripture, Zeal for your house will consume me. At this the Jews answered and said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered and said to them, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and you will raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking about the temple of his body. Therefore, when he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this, and they came to believe the Scripture and the word Jesus had spoken.

I am a big fan of the Hollywood actor Mark Wahlberg. I don’t just like him because he is Catholic, but because he is very proud to be Catholic. On Ash Wednesday, for example, he got his ashes at Mass and posed for a picture with the priest who celebrated that Mass – what a lucky priest! Someone told me once that if Mark Wahlberg is walking down the street and passes a Catholic church, he always goes inside to make a visit to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, and then continues on his way. Lately, he’s also on social media promoting praying the Rosary on the Hallow app. He uses the tag-line, “Gotta stay prayed up!” Mark Wahlberg gives me hope for Hollywood.

Several years ago Wahlberg co-starred in a comedy movie with Will Farrell called “Daddy’s Home.” Did you happen to see it? At first I didn’t like the movie because it depicted Will Farrell as a bumbling step-dad who gets belittled and humiliated when the far more handsome, muscle-bound, super-cool biological dad (Mark Wahlberg) shows up. I didn’t like seeing Wahlberg playing the part of the mean dad and basically be a home-wrecker.

But the best part of the movie – spoiler-alert, close your ears! – was when one day Wahlberg’s second wife shows up with Wahlberg’s step-daughter for a visit, and so Wahlberg is the step-dad now. They are all having fun when the girl’s real dad shows up, who’s even more handsome, and has bigger muscles, and rides an even bigger Harley motorcycle, and puts Wahlberg in his place. I think the take-home message of the movie was don’t think you’re the super-cool dad because one day an even more super-cool dad may come home, and put you in your place.

I believe this Wahlberg movie can give us an insight into what is happening in the gospel today. How so? Well, Jesus walks into the Jerusalem Temple and calls it “my Father’s house,” and therefore the Temple is also Jesus house. Why? Well, because what belongs to the Father by right, will belong to the Son by inheritance. Jesus tells Philip, “If you have seen me you have seen the Father.” And therefore, Jesus starts cleaning house by making a whip out of cords and driving out of the temple the sheep and oxen and money-changers.

In other words, the scribes and Pharisees were like the spiritual step-fathers of the Jewish people, spiritual surrogates, taking the place of the true Father (God), that is, until “Daddy’s home.” The scribes and Pharisees thought they were hot stuff, like Wahlberg the cool dad, until Jesus came home to take his rightful place. You know, I have learned more good theology from watching movies than from reading hundreds of theology books!

May I share with you a dream I have had ever since I came to Immaculate Conception over ten years ago? I love this beautiful, Gothic-Romanesque church, and there is just one thing wrong with it. Jesus in the Most Blessed Sacrament is not in his rightful place. He’s shoved over to the side, whereas the priest is in the most prominent place, front and center. All eyes are on the priest at Mass.

My dream, therefore, has always been to build a beautiful back altar and put it where the priests and deacons sit and move Jesus to the most prominent place in his house, this temple. That is, I want to say liturgically and architecturally, “Daddy’s home”! And put the priests and deacons over to the side, and recognize that I am essentially a step-dad, and one day the super-cool, real dad is going to come home. If Mark Wahlberg walks into IC I want him to see Jesus is front and center and maybe I’ll get a selfie with him!

My friends, do you mind if I bring this a little closer to home and show how it applies not only to this home we’re sitting in now but to your house you’ll go home to after Mass? You see, for the ancient Jews the temple was a miniature replica of the cosmos, and the cosmos was in turn a macro-temple. Think of how a dollhouse is a miniature version of a real house, but just with super small tables, chairs, beds, sinks, bathrooms, etc. The temple therefore is just the dollhouse, while the entire cosmos is the real house.

So, in that sense, this whole world we live in, including your house, is part of the macro-temple, that is, the whole universe is God’s house. And guess what, chicken butt? One day, Daddy’s coming home. And that means as stewards of creation we are in the position of Will Farrell and merely step-dads on earth, until the really super-cool Dad returns. By the way, this is exactly what happens in every Baptism. Your children are adopted into God’s family, and that means they really belong to God, who is their Daddy, Abba, Father. In other words, you become spiritual step-parents to your own children.

And just like in this micro-cosmos of Immaculate Conception church, Jesus needs to occupy the most prominent place, so in your home and in your heart, Jesus should occupy the most prominent place. In my parents’ house, they always erect a small altar to Jesus, with the Sacred Heart of Jesus in the middle surrounded by candles. It’s clear who is the head of my parents’ home: Jesus. That is, no matter how cool you think you are or how fancy a car you drive, or how big your muscles are, Jesus will be far cooler than that. And one day, Daddy’s coming home. You know, you guys really need to watch more movies.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

School of Suffering, Part 4

Studying the high science of Christian suffering

02/27/2024

Having completed the first two courses in the curriculum of suffering, or at least having surveyed them, we turn to the final course of specifically Christian suffering. Buckle up, folks, this may feel like a course in quantum mechanics. Up to this point we have deliberately refrained from citing Scripture passages when discussing involuntary and voluntary suffering. Why? Well, it seemed imperative to allow those subjects to stand on their own two legs of reason and nature rather than invoke revelation and faith. Even so, nothing truly stands alone without God’s grace to support it. But now we may sort of “release the holy hounds” of Scripture and tradition as we attempt to study the subject of Christian suffering per se. That is, we must investigate how the coming of Christ has completely changed the conversation about suffering, pain, and finally death, so we can say with the same bold conviction as St. Paul, “Death is swallowed up in victory” (1 Co 15:54). And I would like to look at Christian suffering under three different aspects: (1) suffering as penance or purification, (2) suffering as a path to perfection, and (3) suffering as a preview of Paradise.

First, St. Paul strikes the right penitential note regarding suffering in Gal 2:20, where he writes: “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself up for me.” And St. Paul certainly seems to refer to the stigmata (the five wounds of Jesus) when he added at the end of Galatians: “for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus” (Gal 6:17). In other words, in the Christian mind suffering must start to look like a friend rather than a foe. Why is that? C. S. Lewis gave a colorful example, which resonated with me as I deal with my dog Apollo. Lewis warned: “Thus the terrible necessity of tribulation (suffering) is only too clear…Let [God] but sheathe his sword (of suffering) for a moment and I behave like a puppy when the hated bath is over – I shake myself as dry as I can and race off to reacquire my comfortable dirtiness, if not in the nearest manure heap, at least in the nearest flower bed” (The Problem of Pain, 107). That is, even though Baptism has washed away the Original Sin of Adam – like a dog given a bath – the old Adam’s tendency to sin is still alive in me – I run to play in the manure heap.

St. Paul described this lingering tendency to sin in Rm 7:23, “I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin which dwells in my members.” In other words, we are in a constant state of war; not primarily with Russia, or Hamas, or totalitarian regimes. But rather waging the forgotten war with ourselves, a war of constant purification. In order for Christ to live in me, my old self must die and that requires suffering, a daily death to self. This is why we perform penances during Lent: fasting, abstaining from meat, giving up chocolate or alcohol, etc. And notice, too, this penance or purification is not merely about physical or financial fitness, and even goes beyond altruistic love of family or nation. That is, while suffering as penance may have some natural effects – not eating chocolate may help you lose weight – its basic outlook and final purpose are entirely supernatural because it conforms us more completely to Christ. C. S. Lewis put it well, invoking John Henry Newman: “We are not merely imperfect creatures who must be improved: we are, as Newman said, rebels who must lay down our arms” (The Problem of Pain, 88). And that spiritual self-surrender demands sustained suffering called penance.

Now, it is one thing to heal a broken leg and get the patient off crutches. It is quite another matter entirely to train to run a marathon. That marathon is precisely the second level of Christian suffering as the path of perfection. Changing metaphors, once we have laid down our arms as rebels, we must train as spiritual shock troops in the Lord’s army. We find a compelling example of striving for perfection in the conversation between the rich young man and Jesus in Mt 19:16-22. Apparently the young man had already overcome many imperfections and had been morally purified because when Jesus tells him to keep the commandments, he confidently answers: “All these I have observed. What do I still lack?” (Mt 19:20). Then Jesus teaches him about suffering as the path to perfection, adding: “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven” (Mt 19:21). I will never forget Venerable Archbishop Fulton Sheen once remarked: “There is no crown without a cross.” But that price of perfection (the cross) was too high (for the crown), and so “he went away sorrowful” (Mt 19:22).

May I share with you why I spent three months with the Carmelites before I came to Immaculate Conception? I felt a lot like the rich young man in Matthew 19. I had kept the commandments but still wondered, “What do I still lack?” In other words, I desired a more complete commitment to Christ, in a word, perfection. Forgive me if this sounds arrogant, but I’m being honest. I was not content with merely walking with Jesus, I wanted to run ultra-marathons with the Lord. But after three months in Dallas I again felt like the rich young man and “went away sorrowful, for I had great possessions” (Mt 19:22). And one of my great possessions is the gift of gab: I cannot shut-up. I could not keep quiet long enough for Carmelite contemplation. Nonetheless, entering the cloistered Carmelites would have been a step toward greater perfection. Vatican II taught this in a document called “Perfectae Caritatis” (perfect charity or love). Vatican II echoes Jesus’ words to the rich young man, and to me (and perhaps to you), teaching: “Driven by love with which the Holy Spirit floods their hearts (cf. Rom 5:5) they live more and more for Christ and for His body which is the Church (cf. Col 1:24). The more fervently, then, they are joined to Christ by this total life-long gift of themselves, the richer the life of the Church becomes and the more lively and successful its apostolate (Perfectae Caritatis, 1). That is, perfect charity or love involves the relentless renunciation embodied in poverty, chastity, and obedience. Christian suffering is the surest path to spiritual perfection. And few and fortunate are they who find and follow it.

And thirdly, Christian suffering opens the doors to paradise by affording us a preview of coming attractions. The spiritual masters distinguished three stages of the spiritual life: the purgative, the illuminative, and the unitive. St. John of the Cross, in his sublime book The Ascent of Mount Carmel, offered spiritual souls “instructions for climbing to the summit, the high state of union” (The Ascent of Mount Carmel, I, 13, 10). There we find these paradoxically poetic lines: “To reach satisfaction in all / desire satisfaction in nothing. / To come to possess all / desire the possession of nothing. / To arrive at being all / desire to be nothing. / To come to the knowledge of all / desire the knowledge of nothing. / To come to enjoy what you have not / you must go by a way in which you enjot not. / To come to the knowledge you have not / you must go by a way in which you know not. / To come to the possession of you have not / you must go by a way in which you possess not. / To come to be what you are not / you must go by a way in which you are not” (The Ascent of Mount Carmel, I, 13, 10). This is what Carmelites call the “nada doctrine” of St. John of the Cross – St. John was a Carmelite mystic. “Nada” in Spanish means “nothing.” That is, spiritual union with God requires that we relinquish what is not God, which is everything else. Only if our hands are empty can we receive what someone wants to give us. We cannot be filled with God until we are empty of ourselves. This Christian suffering called self-emptying, desiring nada, therefore, carries us to the heights of spiritual union with God, which St. John describes as reaching the summit of a mountain much higher than the Himalayas.

One of the great, yet surprising, Christological hymns by St. Paul in the New Testament is found in Phil 2:6-11. Instead of lauding the power, wisdom, and love of Jesus (which he does elsewhere like Col 1:15-20), Paul praises Jesus’ humility, self-emptying, and sacrifice of our Lord, writing: “Though [Christ] was in the form of God…[he] emptied himself, taking the form of a servant…and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross” (Phil 2: 6, 7, 😎. Paul’s point is that this suffering, humiliation, and ignoble death is what Christianity looks like on earth, even though what awaits us in heaven is the victor’s crown. Stunning as it sounds to common sense, we are most authentically Christian when things are going their worst – and we cheerfully carry the cross – rather than when things are going well.

C. S. Lewis concludes his book The Problem of Pain by audaciously suggesting that this sacrificial self-emptying will continue even after we enter the halls of heaven, although there it will feel rapturous and triumphant. He writes lines I can scarcely comprehend (see what you can make of them): “We need not suppose that this necessity for something analogous to self-conquest will ever be ended, or that eternal life will not also be eternal dying. For in self-giving, if anywhere, we touch a rhythm not only of all creation but of all being” (The Problem of Pain, 157). And then Lewis quotes his mentor George MacDonald, observing: “For the Eternal Word [Jesus] also gives himself in sacrifice; and that not only on Calvary. For when He was crucified He ‘did that in the wild weather of His outlying provinces which He had done at home in glory and gladness.’ From before the foundation of the world He surrenders begotten Deity back to begetting Deity in obedience” (The Problem of Pain, 157). This, therefore, is the fundamental law of all reality, both heavenly and earthly, namely, as Jesus taught: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (Jn 12:24). This, furthermore, is the ultimate sense of suffering. The surprising even paradoxical character of Christian suffering consists in a surrender that leads to victory, a sacrifice that leads to perfection, and a death that leads to life. And if you can learn and live that, quantum mechanics will seem like child’s play.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

School of Suffering, Part 3

Exploring the aristocratic nature of voluntary suffering

02/26/2024

We move now from considering the more democratic kind of involuntary suffering (like death) which touches everyone, to the voluntary suffering which we might label more aristocratic because it is embraced by fewer and nobler souls. Aristocracy means rule by the noble few. Surprising as it sounds, some people actually seek suffering, not because they suffer from some mental disorder but because they feel their sacrifices might help restore the proper order in themselves and others. We are, of course, still on the natural, human level of suffering, and not talking about suffering motivated by supernatural faith in Jesus. Voluntary suffering is about being super good, not super holy. We are not yet ready for the high science of Christian suffering. That is, even before the birth of Christ – and even after in some instances of ignorance – some noble souls willingly shouldered suffering for their own personal growth or for the good of others. Therefore, we will explore voluntary suffering under two headings: (1) for personal benefits, and (2) for altruistic purposes.

A common example of personally motivated, voluntary suffering occurs every January first. Many people make New Year’s Resolutions, which typically entail some sacrifice, like diet and exercise. People make their physical health a priority and consequently willingly embrace suffering. Such voluntary suffering is for purely personal gain – no pain, no gain – and all good doctors highly recommend it. My parents, for example, have started a new exercise routine called “chair yoga,” and I occasionally join them. It is low impact yoga, and mostly involves stretching muscles. It may sound easy, but I was sweating after thirty minutes.

But physical fitness does not exhaust all the personal reasons for voluntary suffering; they can also be chosen for fiscal or financial fitness. I am a fan of the Dave Ramsey school of managing money because he advocates delayed gratification rather than immediate gratification. Put simply, save before you spend. I bought one of Dave Ramsey’s books, called The Total Money Makeover. At the bottom of every page is his personal motto: “If you will live like no one else, later you can live like no one else.” That is, most people spend recklessly and save rarely. Dave recommends the opposite approach to money management, namely, save regularly, and spend responsibly. Notice here the motive behind such voluntary sacrifices is purely personal, we might almost say “selfish” in the best sense of selfish as becoming the best version of yourself: disciplined. We are not yet suffering for others (although others may approve of the new you), and still far from suffering for Christ (although divine grace is surely operative whenever we do any good).

Another form of voluntary suffering is altruistic, or embraced for the good of others. The first person who suffers altruistically that should come to everyone’s mind is their own mother. Why? No one would be here if their own mother had not willingly endured the curse of Eve in Gn 3:16, “in pain you shall bring forth children”. By the way, Hispanic mothers regularly refuse to take an epidural shot during labor to avoid any undue risk to their baby or themselves. They willingly endure the full weight of Eve’s curse. But motherly love and concern does not stop at childbirth. Our church secretary has a funny sign on her desk that reads: “’It’s like no one in my family appreciates that I stayed up all night overthinking for them,’ signed, Mom.” The behavior of children causes not only the Virgin Mary’s heart to be pierced by a sword; all loving mom’s hearts are so pierced. Naturally, husbands and fathers also make sacrifices for their families, but we don’t receive the same publicity, which is part of the sacrifice itself. Notice, again, that this form of altruistic suffering is not necessarily motivated by faith in Christ or (obvious) grace – it is not properly supernatural – it is, rather, born from natural instincts and familial love and care.

Another higher level or layer of altruistic, voluntary suffering is patriotic sacrifice embraced for one’s country, especially by joining the military. Archbishop Fulton Sheen, in his autobiography Treasure in Clay, refers to two renowned world leaders who embraced celibacy for others: Mahatma Gandhi, for the sake of the untouchables in India (I’m not sure what Mrs. Gandhi thought about that), and United Nations secretary general Dag Hammerskjöld, for the sake of world peace (cf., Treasure in Clay, 206). My nephew Isaac, graduated from West Point last year, and is now stationed in Poland. I am in awe and gratitude of his readiness to serve his country and, if necessary, to make the ultimate sacrifice for her. We have added a petition every at Sunday Masses so our courageous men and women in the armed forces do not have to make that ultimate sacrifice. But they are ready to if called upon.

On November 19, 1863, President Abraham Lincoln traveled to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania to dedicate a cemetery and give a brief speech. He delivered one of the most memorable speeches of all time because he intended to honor those who made the ultimate, altruistic sacrifice for their country. The sixteenth president acknowledged humbly: "But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here, to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly” – notice the nobility of such sacrifice – “advanced…[T]hat we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” I cannot think of a more patriotic speech – except perhaps Mark Antony’s eulogy of Caesar in Shakespeare’s play “Julius Caesar” (III, ii, 1617-1797) – that praises the heroic nature of altruistic, voluntary suffering.

This, then, is the second course of studies in our school of hard knocks, this academy of aches. Unlike the first course of involuntary suffering which touches everyone without exception – democratic we might say – voluntary suffering by contrast can be described by the Marine Corps motto: “The few, the proud, the Marines.” That is, unlike most people whose personal paradigm is to maximize pleasure and minimize pain, some people discover the value of voluntary suffering. Among this remarkable minority of the human race, some accept suffering for physical fitness or financial fitness. Whereas, within families and nations there is an even narrower, nobler few, an aristocracy of altruistic sufferers, that put other’s happiness before their own. They are willing to die so that others may live – their “death” might give this nation “a new birth" – mothers and fathers, and men and women in uniform who protect the freedoms the rest of us take for granted. As King Henry declared in his famous St. Crispian’s Day speech: “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; / For he to-day that shed his blood with me / Shall be my brother” (Henry V, IV, iii).

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Higher Holiness

Seeking the holiness that begins in the heart

02/24/2024

Mt 5:20-26 Jesus said to his disciples: "I tell you, unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter into the Kingdom of heaven. "You have heard that it was said to your ancestors, You shall not kill; and whoever kills will be liable to judgment. But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment, and whoever says to his brother, Raqa, will be answerable to the Sanhedrin, and whoever says, 'You fool,' will be liable to fiery Gehenna. Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift. Settle with your opponent quickly while on the way to court. Otherwise your opponent will hand you over to the judge, and the judge will hand you over to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Amen, I say to you, you will not be released until you have paid the last penny."

If I were to ask you, who are the really holy people in the Church, what would you reply? Most Catholics would probably answer that refers to the priests, nuns and monks. After all, they dedicate their lives to God and the Church, and heck, they sure look holy in their priestly collars and brown robes and veils and habits. Right? But I would suggest to you that is exactly the wrong way to think about holiness and being a saint. Why is that?

I hear a lot of confessions, and probably over a hundred each week. And I gotta tell you, I am always humbled by what I hear. Yes, people sin, and some of the stuff they say is pretty bad. You want to know what they say? Sorry, I cannot tell you. But far more important is their sorrow for sin, and their desire to do better. I often think when someone walks out of confession: “Man, that girl is a lot holier than I am!” In other words, lay people – moms and dads, teachers and coaches, lawyers and doctors, ditch-diggers and housekeepers, and yes even high school students, are reaching the heights of holiness faster and more frequently than many priests, monks and nuns. The reality of holiness is often the reverse of what we think.

In the gospel today, Jesus says the same surprising and paradoxical thing: “I tell you, unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” That is, Jesus’ followers must seek a higher holiness than the professional religious of their day, meaning, the priests, monks and nuns of the first century. How will they reach this higher holiness?

Jesus says holiness is not about wearing a Roman collar or a brown robe or swinging a rosary around like a lasso. Holiness begins and ends in the heart. So, for example, he says don’t grow angry with your brother. In other words, holiness is hidden in the heart and thus confidential, like what I hear in confession. Boys and girls, I know who is holy in this school because I hear your confessions, and the holiest person ain’t me. So, good job, your righteousness is surpassing that of the scribes and Pharisees.

Have you ever heard of St. Josemaria Escriva? He was a priest in Spain who died in 1975. During his life he tried to practice and preach what Jesus urged in the gospel today, namely, holiness is for everyone, not just the professional religious priests, nuns and monks. He proposed a bold new way to grow in holiness through our work or our vocation in life. He would say startling things like: your altar where you offer sacrifice like a priest at Mass, is your ironing board where you iron your family’s clothes, your school desk where you take your tests as a student, your chalkboard where you write your lessons as a teacher, and so forth.

And we should do these activities – ironing, studying, teaching – not to impress other people, but for God. Notice the subtle change in the heart. On the outside we look like the rest of the world – moms, students, and teachers – but on the inside (in the heart) we are becoming saints. We are not living our lives for a "pat on the back" or more money, but for God. In other words, we may not wear a Roman collar, or look super holy, but that is how our righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees.

Boys and girls, I know the sophomores here at OCA are about to go on their week-long mission trip to help the poor in Kentucky. And that is truly wonderful, and I am proud of you. I used to go on annual mission trips to Honduras with 30 missionaries to help the poor there. And that is great too. But the higher holiness Jesus calls us to does not require going to Honduras but rather a change in the heart, why we do things. We do things for God not for others.

I know it doesn’t sound very sexy to stay home and iron clothes and do chores, or study algebra and history, or teach day after day, or write these ridiculous homilies every day. But when we do these things only for God, that is how our righteousness will surpass that of the scribes and Pharisees, too.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Thursday, February 22, 2024

School of Suffering, Part 2

Learning the prerequisite of involuntary suffering

02/22/2024

We take our seats now in the school of suffering, and you may feel some suffering in how long this homily is. We have said the school of suffering, commonly called the school of hard knocks, offers three courses, namely, (1) involuntary suffering, (2) voluntary suffering, and (3) Christian suffering. Think of this first course of involuntary suffering like a prerequisite to study the second and third courses. That is, only if we can find sense in suffering that is entirely unavoidable can we hope to discover any meaning in suffering that is voluntary and Christian. Only if we can first count 1, 2, 3 can we hope to perform the higher math of algebra, and perhaps even one day take a stab at quantum mechanics. You cannot take the MCAT to enter medical school until you demonstrate proficiency in prerequisite subjects like anatomy and chemistry. So, first we will try to make sense of involuntary, unavoidable, necessary suffering.

The first thing we notice about involuntary suffering is its universal scope. No matter how hard we try to shield our loved ones, or ourselves, from pain and hurt, the long hand of suffering eventually reaches out and lays a finger on each man, woman, child, and even priest. Every week I visit people who are seriously sick in the hospital. I used to feel very sorry for such people, but lately I feel less so. Why? It is not because I am losing compassion or empathy for them. Rather, I am growing in awareness that I will one day be in their hospital gown. That is, I, too, will become seriously sick, and end up in the hospital, and finally die. It is not a matter of if but of when. I don’t feel sorry for the sick, I feel a deep solidarity with them.

If you ever travel to Rome, I encourage you to visit the Bone Church as it is commonly called. Inside this Capuchin Franciscan church the furniture – tables, chairs, chandeliers, even altars – are constructed from the bones of deceased friars. Only crazy Catholics could cook up such a church. There is a prominent plaque which reads in three different languages, as if the bones themselves were speaking: “Where you are, we once were. Where we now are, you one day will be.” Those deceased Franciscan friars are encouraging their visitors not only to have solidarity with the sick, but solidarity with the dead. When we realize that in some shape or form suffering and finally death will lay its cold hand upon each and every one of us, we not only feel the first pang of solidarity with the sick and dying, but we also feel a need to make some sense out of involuntary suffering. Why do we die?

The best analysis I have read on the topic of unavoidable suffering, especially death, is the 1969 classic titled, On Death and Dying, by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. A psychiatrist by training, Dr. Kübler-Ross interviewed two hundred dying patients and discovered that they uniformly experienced five stages of grief. What’s more, she taught that if they could successfully navigate the road of suffering and death – by following this roadmap of five stages – they could not only endure the experience but also find a profound peace. By the way, I have found that these five stages of grief are a handy roadmap for any unavoidable suffering we meet: the loss of a job, a divorce, moving from one country to another, the death of a child, a mid-life crisis, and so forth. You will need this roadmap long before you lie on your deathbed. In other words, if there were one textbook for this preliminary course of involuntary pain and suffering, it would be On Death and Dying by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross.

The first stage of grief is “denial and isolation.” For example, a patient feels shock and numbness at the news they have cancer and only a few years to live. The patient exclaims, “No, not me, it cannot be true” (On Death and Dying, 37). But Kübler-Ross also provides a positive reason for this denial, adding: “Denial functions as a buffer after unexpected shocking news, allows the patient to collect himself, and, with time, mobilize other, less radical defenses” (On Death and Dying, 38). That is, denial is not all bad. It provides a much needed emotional respite from the rude reality of extreme suffering in order to continue functioning and take care of the business of still living. We have just passed the first mile-marker on the rocky road of dealing with the involuntary suffering called death, namely, denial and isolation. Knowing you are on the right road and moving forward is half the battle of reaching the right destination.

The second stage of dealing with death and dying is “anger.” We look for someone to blame for my pain and loss, and if I cannot find a human culprit, I will blame God. Nonetheless, Kübler-Ross reminds us that anger also serves an important function in dealing with suffering, namely, asserting that the patient is still alive. She elaborates: “He will raise his voice, he will make demands, he will complain and ask to be given attention, perhaps as the last loud cry, ‘I am alive, don’t forget that. You can hear my voice, I am not dead yet!’” (On Death and Dying, 51). Here I might add that even if we are not the patient, as their family and friends, we can also feel anger in the face of intense pain, loss, or suffering that is vicarious. As the British poet Dylan Thomas eloquently expressed it: “Do not go gentle into that good night, / Old age should burn and rave against close of day; / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” In other words, the rage and anger is not only a sign of life and vitality – “I am not dead yet!” – in the person who is terminally ill, but also another mile-marker of progress on the road of dealing with involuntary suffering for everyone who suffers. The persecuted person is drawing one stage closer to peace.

The third stage is called “bargaining.” Kübler-Ross recognizes that bargaining usually brings God more squarely into the picture. She explains: "Most bargains are usually made with God and are usually kept a secret or mentioned between the lines or in a chaplain’s private office. In our individual interviews without an audience we have been impressed by the number of patients who promise ‘a life dedicated to God,’ or ‘a life in the service of the church’ in exchange for some additional time” (On Death and Dying, 81). In other words, there is a child-like quality to bargaining because children try to bargain with their parents for what they want or to get out of trouble. Again, the point at this stage is not to discourage the bargaining but to acknowledge it, and give the person some space to express himself. Notice how we are at a new stage of dealing with involuntary suffering. We are passing the third mile-marker on the road to peace.

The fourth stage of dealing with death and dying is “depression.” By the way, one popular definition I heard of depression is that it is anger turned inward. That is, we blame ourselves for our misfortune and become sad and melancholy. Kübler-Ross offers some surprising advice for the family and friends of the dying person: "The patient should not be encouraged to look at the sunny side of things, as this would mean he should not contemplate his death. It would be counter-indicated to tell him not to be sad, since all of us are sad when we lose one beloved person. The patient is in the process of losing everything and everybody he loves” (On Death and Dying, 85). So what should the dying patient’s family do? Dr. Kübler-Ross suggests: “There is no or little need for words. It is much more a feeling that can be mutually expressed and is often done better with a touch of a hand, a stroking of the hair, or just a silent sitting together” (On Death and Dying, 85). That is, whether the patient feels anger projected outward, or depression as anger turned inward, the best approach is to provide a safe space for the patient to express their feelings. They are showing progress, precisely in their sadness and depression, that they are passing the fourth mile-marker on the road of involuntary suffering. Some depressions are healthy.

Dr. Kübler-Ross terms the fifth and final stage “peace and acceptance.” She observes: “If the patient has had enough time and has been given some help in working through the previously described stages…he will contemplate his coming end with a certain degree of quiet expectation” (On Death and Dying, 109-10). I love her phrase “quiet expectation.” The tricky part of this stage is that it almost looks like the person is giving up or being a coward because they accept their fate. But it is the proper attitude of peace, and I would add, also trust in God. It is like that “trust game” where one person falls backward into the arms of another person whom they cannot see. Only if the seriously sick person has successfully navigated denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, can they fall into the arms of a loving God, and know he will not drop them, but embrace them lovingly forever.

My friends, sooner or later, we all face some suffering that is involuntary, we wish we could avoid them, but we cannot. And one day we will all face the ultimate suffering called death. That sounds scary and so we can resort to extreme measures to avoid it. Have you heard of the tech billionaire named Bryan Johnson, who started taking daily plasma transfusions from his seventeen-year old son, Talmage, to reverse the aging process? His project is simply called “Don’t Die.” If we try to figure out where Bryan Johnson is on Dr. Kübler-Ross’ roadmap, we might say he is still at the first stage of denial. That is, Johnson refuses to take this prerequisite course and is spending his fortune to avoid the unavoidable. I wish Mr. Johnson luck with his new venture. Meanwhile, back on earth, I suggest you learn the ropes of this first course in the school of hard knocks called involuntary suffering.

Praised be Jesus Christ!