My Imaginary Friend

Figuring out who Jesus is and thereby who we are

11/25/2018

John 18:33B-37 Pilate said to Jesus, "Are you the King of the Jews?" Jesus answered, "Do you say this on your own or have others told you about me?" Pilate answered, "I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests handed you over to me. What have you done?" Jesus answered, "My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom did belong to this world, my attendants would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews.  But as it is, my kingdom is not here." So Pilate said to him, "Then you are a king?" Jesus answered, "You say I am a king. For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."

If someone were to ask you, “Who is Jesus Christ?” how would you answer them? Before you reply, I would suggest to you that whatever answer you come up with will have profound personal and practical implications. Indeed, your answer to that question will play no small part in your own salvation. You may recall in Matthew 16 at Caesarea Philippi how Jesus asked his apostles, “Who do people say that I am?” And Peter’s faith-filled response changed his future forever. Because Peter answered that Jesus was “the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” Jesus dubbed him “Peter,” “Petros,” the rock foundation of the Church. How we answer the question about the identity of Jesus always sort of boomerangs back to shape our own identity.

In C. S. Lewis’ classic book called Mere Christianity, the Oxford professor argued there are only three possible answers to that question about Jesus’ identity. Put simply, Jesus is either a lunatic, a liar, or the Lord. Lewis explained: “I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about [Jesus, that is] I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say.” Lewis continued: “A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic – on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg – or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman, or something worse.”

By the way, I believe one reason people prefer to see Jesus as a great moral teacher is that puts Jesus safely inside a box and keeps him at arm’s length; he doesn’t get too close. Think about it: if Jesus is just a great moral teacher, we can listen attentively to his lectures, say how smart he is, and then leave at the end of class, and go back to life as before. But if he is the Lord, however, then we must serve and worship him like Peter did, and our life will never be the same.

In the gospel today, Jesus has a high-stakes interview with Pontius Pilate, over the question of his identity. At stake is not only Jesus’ pending crucifixion, but also Pilate’s eternal salvation. Two fates hang in the balance. Pilate asks first: “Are you the King of the Jews?” Remember that Pilate was a career politician, and his question was politically motivated because he wanted to know the ramifications of crucifying Jesus. Would it be politically expedient?  In effect Pilate was wondering, “Are you a lunatic, a liar or the Lord?” But notice how Our Lord replies with another question (as he often does), asking: “Do you say this on your own or have others told you about me?” The key words are “on your own.” In other words, don’t make this political or theoretical, but make it personal and practical. Jesus is asking Pilate like he asked Peter and the other apostles: “Who do you say that I am?” Our Lord tried to elicit an act of faith, like he did with everyone he encountered. Why? Because who Jesus is also concerns who Pilate is. And that perennial politician didn’t like being put on the spot, and asked each personal questions.

May I share with you who Jesus is for me? I don’t want this homily to be a theology lecture, that you can listen to and walk away unchanged.  But rather a personal testimony, that you have to take seriously. Jesus is my closest personal friend. Sometimes we see small children talk to an “imaginary friend” who is with them all the time, and we adults smile and humor them. Well, you will have to smile and humor me, too, because I have an imaginary friend named Jesus, who by the way, is more real to me than this whole cosmos was to Albert Einstein. Like small children do, I tell Jesus how I feel, if I am sad because someone died, or angry because of how people drive, or tired after a long day, or really excited because the deacon will preach at Mass and I get a break. I ask him to forgive me when I commit sins, and fall short as a Christian. I ask him to bless my family, my friends, and my parishioners who have problems. I ask him to give me wisdom to deal with hard pastoral problems and with hard-headed people. And that continuous conversation never ceases, even when I fall asleep, and maybe that’s when Jesus can finally say something himself because I finally shut up. In other words, Jesus is my personal Lord and Savior, but notice that necessarily means I am his disciple and servant. Who he is makes me who I am.

On this final Sunday of the liturgical year, the Feast of Christ the King - after having walked with Jesus, after having seen his miracles, after having heard his wisdom - the Church urges us to ask ourselves, “Who is Jesus Christ to me?” Is Jesus just a great moral teacher, like Mahatma Gandhi, or Buddha, or Aristotle? Is he merely someone we hear on Sunday, but keep at arm’s length the rest of the week? Is he your personal Lord and Savior, to whom you owe not only your salvation, but also Someone who can demand your discipleship? Or, is he an intimate and imaginary Friend, who others may not see, but who, as St. Augustine said, “is nearer to me than my inmost being” (Confessions, 3.6.11)? Is he Someone whose love is more important to you than life itself?

And be very careful how you answer that question about Jesus identity. Why? Because your own identity (like Peter’s and Pilate’s) hangs in the balance. Who Jesus is always makes us who we are.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Smarter than Science

Learning to see more with the eyes of faith

11/24/2018

Luke 20:27-40 Some Sadducees, those who deny that there is a resurrection, came forward and put this question to Jesus, saying, “Teacher, Moses wrote for us, If someone’s brother dies leaving a wife but no child, his brother must take the wife and raise up descendants for his brother. Now there were seven brothers; the first married a woman but died childless. Then the second and the third married her, and likewise all the seven died childless. Finally the woman also died. Now at the resurrection whose wife will that woman be? For all seven had been married to her.” Jesus said to them, “The children of this age marry and remarry; but those who are deemed worthy to attain to the coming age and to the resurrection of the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. They can no longer die, for they are like angels; and they are the children of God because they are the ones who will rise.

Faith always allows you to see more than what meets the eye, not less. Some modern people argue that people of faith are uneducated and backward, while those who see the world through science and technology are smarter and advanced. To be sure, mankind owes a deep debt of thanks to science for amazing advances. No doubt about it. But the eyes of science only see the literal level of life, while the eyes of faith gaze on the symbolical, the spiritual, and even the sacramental level of reality. A man who looks lovingly into the eyes of his beloved sees the whole universe, but an optometrist only sees cornea and iris.

When people of faith look at the night sky, they see more than cold, dead space, and billions and billions of solitary stars. Rather, they see the symbolic heavens and even the abode of God. C. S. Lewis tried to relate this vision of faith in his science-fiction book called Out of the Silent Planet. The protagonist named Ransom travels to another planet and his experience of outer space is the exact opposite of what modern science would suggest. He reflects: “The very name ‘Space” seemed a blasphemous libel for his empyrean ocean of radiance in which they swam. He could not call it ‘dead’; he felt life pouring into him from it every moment.” In other words, to the eyes of faith the universe is not empty, it is full. It is not cold and lifeless, it is pulsating with life all around. After Dante travels through the seven heavens and finally stands before the throne of God, he declares in his final verse of The Divine Comedy staring into God’s face: “The Love that moves the Sun and the other stars.” Italy’s greatest poet did not see less through the eyes of faith, he saw more. He saw above and beyond the literal level (where science stands) and rose to the level of love (where faith finds itself), full of the symbolical, the spiritual and the sacramental.

Jesus tries to teach the Sadducees to see beyond the literal level, too, but they are stuck on the scientific level. They present a scenario in which a woman marries seven brothers – something required by Levitical law – and then they ask: “At the resurrection of whose wife will that woman be? For all seven had been married to her.” Have you ever wondered what happens to people who remarry when they get to heaven?  You’re not alone.  Jesus’ answer not only gives them a glimpse of heaven, but also reveals how limited their own understanding is. They think too literally. He explains: “The children of this age (on earth) marry and remarry; but those who are deemed worthy to attain to the coming age (heaven) and to the resurrection of the dead neither marry not are given in marriage. They can no longer die, they are like the angels; and they are the children of God.” In other words, marriage is for earth, but not for heaven. But that doesn’t mean heaven will be less, but rather more: we will enjoy more love and more life there than here. People of faith, therefore, are not moved by the love of a man or a woman, but like Dante said, they are moved by “the Love that moves the Sun and the other stars.” Jesus was inviting the Sadducees to see the world as a lover and not as an optometrist; so they could see more reality, not less.

I think every time we experience one of the seven sacraments, we are training our eyes to see more than what meets the eye, not less. When we witness water poured over a baby’s head, they eyes of faith see a newborn child of God, not just a crying baby. When a bishop smears Sacred Chrism on a teenager’s forehead, the eyes of faith see a newly commissioned solider in Christ’s army. When we hear the words of consecration at Mass, they eyes of faith behold not bread and wine, but the Body and Blood of our Savior. When a couple consummates their marriage, the eyes of faith do not see “four bare legs in a bed” but a foretaste of the marriage of Christ and his Church. When we see a dying person anointed with oil, the eyes of faith see the hope of healing and the hope of heaven. To see with faith is to leap beyond the literal level to the spiritual and sacramental, to see more not less of what meets the eyes.

In a couple of weeks, we will hear the story of three Magi or Wise Men who followed a star to find the newborn King of the Jews, the Son of God. When they looked up at the night sky, they did not see cold, dead space. Rather, they saw “the Love that moves the Sun and the other stars.” People of faith may not be smarter than scientists, but they may be wiser.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Thanks to Thin Air

Directing our thanksgiving to the Triune God

11/22/2018

Luke 17:11-19 As Jesus continued his journey to Jerusalem, he traveled through Samaria and Galilee. As he was entering a village, ten persons with leprosy met him. They stood at a distance from him and raised their voices, saying, "Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!" And when he saw them, he said, "Go show yourselves to the priests." As they were going they were cleansed. And one of them, realizing he had been healed, returned, glorifying God in a loud voice; and he fell at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. He was a Samaritan. Jesus said in reply, "Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?" Then he said to him, "Stand up and go; your faith has saved you."

On Thanksgiving day every year we Americans feel a deep sense of gratitude for all our blessings. And we should – we have much to be grateful for. But do we know whom we are saying “thank you” to? Are we aware of the Author of all our blessings? If we wrote a thank you note today, would it begin with the words, “To Whom It May Concern”? We have a sneaking suspicion that maybe our blessings just fell out of the clear blue sky without any Benefactor behind them, like the great Wizard of Oz turned out to be a man behind the curtain. We say “thank you” to thin air.

A recent survey was taken of Twitter users of all the tweets since January 1, 2018 that began with the words, “I am thankful for…” Here is the top ten list. First, “I am thankful for you.” That makes me feel good. Second, “I am thankful for life.” Third, “I am thankful for People.” Fourth, “I am thankful for family.” Fifth, “I am thankful for Everything.” He wanted to make sure he covered it all. Sixth, “I am thankful for love.” How romantic. Seventh, “I am thankful for friends.” Eighth, “I am thankful for everyone.” Ninth, “I am thankful for today.” And tenth, “I am thankful for God.” I was so happy to hear God got on the list, but just barely. But notice we are not sure who to say thank you to. We even include God on the list but fail to see that he is the Author of the whole list. In other words, out thanksgiving does not have a target; our gratitude is not directed to God. It’s as if we’re saying thank you to thin air, to whom it may concern.

Today’s gospel relates the familiar story of the miraculous cure of the ten lepers. Even though it is blindingly clear Jesus it the Benefactor of their cure, only one returns to give thanks to him. And to add insult to injury, Jesus observes: “Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?” Presumably, the other nine were Jews and should have known the Author of all blessings is God and returned post haste to worship Jesus. But the nine were like modern American twitter users: they no doubt felt deep gratitude, but they did not know whom to send their thank you note to. They were saying thank you to thin air, their notes were written “to whom it may concern.” The episode of the cleansing of the ten lepers is like our modern Thanksgiving celebrations: giving thanks without a target, feeling gratitude but not to God.

My friends, this Thanksgiving day, let me invite you to give gratitude to God for all your blessings. In other words, don’t just move God to the top of your Twitter list of things to be grateful for, but realize that there would be no list without God’s benevolent love for us. Here are a few tips to thank god for our blessings all year long, so it’s a little easier on Thanksgiving. Always say “Grace before Meals” – every morsel of food on your plate comes from “God’s bounty through Christ our Lord.” Do you pray before you eat? When you wake up in the morning, say a “Glory Be,” even before you rush to the bathroom. God opens your eyes every morning more than the alarm does. At night before you lay your head on the pillow say a Hail Mary and thank God for the day that is ending. His providence was present in every second of the day. Today as you sit down for Thanksgiving dinner point your prayers of gratitude to God, he is the Author of all. Do not say thank you to thin air.

Let me conclude with this humorous anecdote from Stephen Hawkins book The Universe in a Nutshell. The late theoretical physician wrote: “A well-known scientist (some say it was Bertrand Russell) once gave a public lecture on astronomy. He described how the earth orbits around the sun and how the sun, in turn, orbits around the center of a vast collection of stars called our galaxy. At the end of the lecture, a little old lady at the back of the room got up and said, ‘What you have told us is rubbish. The world is really a flat plate supported on the back of a giant tortoise.’ The scientist gave a superior smile before replying, ‘And what is the tortoise standing on?’ ‘You’re very clever, young man, very clever,’ said the old lady. ‘But it’s turtles all the way down’ (The Universe, 2).

So, this Thanksgiving day, when you bow your heads to pray, you can give thanks for your blessings to a tower of turtles or to the Triune God. Sadly, some Americans may be saying thank you to thin air.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Flushing and Faith

Remembering the early experiences in our faith journey

11/19/2018

Revelation 2:1-5 I heard the Lord saying to me: "To the angel of the Church in Ephesus, write this: "'The one who holds the seven stars in his right hand and walks in the midst of the seven gold lampstands says this: "I know your works, your labor, and your endurance, and that you cannot tolerate the wicked; you have tested those who call themselves Apostles but are not, and discovered that they are impostors. Moreover, you have endurance and have suffered for my name, and you have not grown weary. Yet I hold this against you: you have lost the love you had at first. Realize how far you have fallen. Repent, and do the works you did at first. Otherwise, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent."'"

One of the catchiest titles for a book has to be Robert Fulgham’s book called All I Really Need to Know I learned in Kindergarten. He argues eloquently that remembering simple life lessons from childhood would help us be happier adults, and make the world a better place to live. He lists sixteen things he learned in kindergarten, but let me mention just five of them.

First he suggests, “share everything.” Kindergartners are taught by well-meaning adults that is it not good to be greedy and hoard things for ourselves. Indeed, God has given this whole cosmos to all humanity to share in common but we quickly forget that life lessons when we grow up. Instead of sharing we become scrooges. Second, Fulghum says, “Don’t hit people.” And I would expand this to forbidding hitting people with our words as well as with our fists. Words can leave deep wounds because the pen is mightier than the sword. Third, he says simply, “Flush.” In fact, a friend told me recently do not just flush the toilet after you are finished but you can even flush before you are done, a so-called “courtesy flush.” Flushing makes the world a better place.

Fourth, Fulghum advises, “Take a nap every afternoon.” That reminds me of my favorite pastoral practice for a priest: “A holy pastor wakes up at 4 o’clock. Twice a day.” And fifth, he adds: “Say you’re sorry when you hurt someone.” This one is closely connected to the earlier one about “don’t hit people.” When we hit people with our words, we must also seek healing with our words, like saying, “I’m sorry.” All these kindergarten life lessons need to be practiced by big grown-ups as well as by tiny toddlers.

Today we start the readings from the Book of Revelation. In John’s letter to the church in Ephesus, he gives advice very similar to Robert Fulghum. He writes: “You have lost the love you had at first.” In other words, some of the life lessons in the ways of grace and goodness you learned when you were still children in the faith have been forgotten. Our early experiences of the Lord and his love stamp our relationship with him with an indelible mark, and we should never forget them. We should return frequently to that fountain of early grace and find refreshment for our journey in life, just like life lessons in kindergarten can serve as a sure compass for adulthood.

May I share with you some of my own early experiences of faith and maybe that will spark some of your own recollections. I will always remember kneeling in the front pew in a church in Hillsboro, TX on the day of my first Holy Communion. As an eight year old boy, I tasted how good the Lord is for the first time, and I never want to take that taste for granted. I feel I would die if I could not receive Communion. Another fond memory I have is my grandmother telling me I should never chew the Host, the Communion Wafer. I should just let it sit on my tongue and let it dissolve. She warned me that if I chewed it, blood would come out because it is the Body of Christ. She scared me to death, and even as a priest I try not to chew the Sacred Host.

Another recollection I have is in elementary school at daily Masses at St. Theresa. A huge crucifix hung over the altar, suspended by cables from the ceiling. During the priests homily, I would stare at the cross wondering if one day the cables might break and the cross come crashing down on the priests head. So, don’t worry if your mind wanders during this homily – I’ve been there, done that. Another memory I have is always sitting in the same pew in church Sunday after Sunday. I could walk into church blindfolded and still find my seat. These may seem like small memories, but I believe they are sacred memories, and my early experiences with Jesus guide me still.

My friends, let us not easily forget the life lessons we learned in school or in church, whether they were about flushing or about faith. Those lessons will make us not only happier people, they will also make us holier people.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Images of Mercy

Learning how God’s first and highest attribute is mercy

11/18/2018

Hebrews 10:11-14, 18 Brothers and sisters: Every priest stands daily at his ministry, offering frequently those same sacrifices that can never take away sins. But this one offered one sacrifice for sins, and took his seat forever at the right hand of God; now he waits until his enemies are made his footstool.  For by one offering he has made perfect forever those who are being consecrated. Where there is forgiveness of these, there is no longer offering for sin.

Well, folks, I have published my third book of homilies. Now, I know what you are probably thinking: “Oh, Lord, have mercy, not another book of homilies!” If you thought that, you would have guessed the title of the new book, which is, Oh, Lord, Have Mercy. May God have mercy on anyone who tries to read it! I have to thank Cindy McNally, who came up with the title of the book. So, if you don’t like the book, then blame her. The book actually has a co-author, namely, Pope Francis himself. That is, each homily ends with a quotation by Pope Francis that touches the same theme as the homily itself. Additionally, each homily wraps up with a reflection question, to help you, the reader, delve deeper into the same theme and apply it to your own life. Some people say that it can be hard to understand the Pope Francis; heck, for that matter, some people say it can be hard to understand Fr. John! So, hopefully this priest helps you under that pope a little better, or maybe that pope will help you understand this priest a little better.

But the title of the book is apropos for another reason: it cuts to the heart of Pope Francis’ central message, which is mercy. The Holy Father emphasizes mercy so much because he believes it is the highest attribute of God. In a sense, mercy is even higher than love. Why? Well, when you love someone who is completely undeserving of your love, your love has evolved into mercy. That, by the way, is exactly how God loves us, his underserving and rebellious children. And the pope does not just preach mercy with his lips, he practices mercy with his life, especially toward the poor, the needy, and the marginalized, those who need mercy the most. I am convinced the pope’s personal mission is to unveil the Face of the God of mercy.

Let me point out a couple of features on the cover of the book that reinforce this theme of mercy using riveting images. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words.  The marble statued figure in middle of the cover is the first pope, St. Peter, as he stands towering over pilgrims who visit St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. In the sweltering heat of a Roman summer, tourists hurry to huddle in the shady coolness beneath that statue, and St. Peter provides a little mercy on sweaty pilgrims. But the real source of mercy comes from his keys that Jesus entrusted to Simon Peter and his successors in Matthew 16. The Petrine keys unlock the doors of mercy, both on earth and even in heaven just like Jesus said they would. The pope has the power to unleash God’s mercy like no one else on earth, and therefore, Pope Francis is a worthy 265th successor of St. Peter. That is why St. Peter and his keys are on the cover of the book: they are impressive images of mercy.

If you look closely at the cover of the book, you discover a kind of subtle, soft watermark, a background image, which is none other than the famous painting by the Dutch, Baroque artist, Rembrandt, a painting called “The Return of the Prodigal Son.” It is unquestionably Rembrandt’s crowning achievement, completed in 1667, two years before his death. One of our parishioners graciously let me borrow his depiction to display in church today. The original, however, is 8 feet tall and 6 feet wide and resides in St. Petersburg, Russia.

If you know the parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15, you can easily guess who the main figures are in the painting. The prodigal, younger son in tattered clothing is kneeling with his head buried in his father’s chest. The father warmly embraces his repentant son with two hands of love and mercy resting tenderly on his back. To the right of the painting stands the self-righteous older brother looking down his nose at his no-good little brother. But perhaps the most captivating artistic detail is the difference in the father’s two hands. One hand is strong and masculine, but the other hand is clearly delicate and feminine, both attributes of God. In the father’s remarkable hands, therefore, Rembrandt has placed both the mercy of a mother and the wisdom of a father, just like Jesus put into Peter’s hand the keys to open the doors of mercy for the world. Rembrandt’s painting of the Prodigal Son stands as an image of mercy par excellence.

In case you are wondering why I wrote this book, it is the same reason I wrote my first two books, namely, to support Catholic schools. Oh, Lord, Have Mercy was published with the help of several generous benefactors, and so 100% of the proceeds from book sales goes to Trinity Junior High. The money does not go to the “Fr. John Retirement Fund.”  I am not making any money off this book. So, if you would like to make a donation above the cost of the book, it would be warmly welcome. The book is available in both hardback and paperback, but also as e-books.

In 1983, Fr. Henri Nouwen, a professor at Harvard Divinity School, and a widely respected writer, traveled to St. Petersburg to see the original Rembrandt painting. He was so mesmerized by its enchanting colors and message of mercy it completely changed his life. He sat in the presence of the painting for three hours. Later he wrote a book about his spiritual journey inspired by this painting called, The Return of the Prodigal Son. He saw himself kneeling in the place of the prodigal son and wrote: “I have a new vocation now…I have to kneel before the Father, put my ear against his chest and listen, without interruption, to the heartbeat of God” (The Return, 17). Those lines also accurately summarize the pontificate of Pope Francis: to listen, without interruption, to the heartbeat of God, whose heart always beats to the rhythm of mercy. I hope that my book will help you to hear that heartbeat of mercy, too.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Culture War

Overturning cultures with prayer, the cross, love and mercy

11/15/2018

Philemon 7-20 Beloved: I have experienced much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the holy ones have been refreshed by you, brother. Therefore, although I have the full right in Christ to order you to do what is proper, I rather urge you out of love, being as I am, Paul, an old man, and now also a prisoner for Christ Jesus. I urge you on behalf of my child Onesimus, whose father I have become in my imprisonment, who was once useless to you but is now useful to both you and me. I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you. I should have liked to retain him for myself, so that he might serve me on your behalf in my imprisonment for the Gospel, but I did not want to do anything without your consent, so that the good you do might not be forced but voluntary.

Christianity is counter-cultural and revolutionary. It seeks to upend and overturn our typical, common assumptions about what is prim and proper, what is right and wrong. Now, it does not achieve that end by force of arms, like America did in the Revolutionary War, or the French did by storming the Bastille on July 14, 1789 and evicting the monarchy. Rather, we rely on the power of prayer, the cross of Christ, and the weapons of love and mercy. Christianity works subtly and imperceptibly like a little leaven raises a batch of dough or like a rising tide lifts all boats.

Let me give you two quick, personal examples of how Christianity upends cultures. India is still ruled in many respects by the ancient caste system. You have the untouchables, the lower caste, the higher caste, and the Brahmins or the priests. My family is obviously Catholic but we are also very poor. It would be unthinkable for the son of a poor man (in the lower caste) to leapfrog the higher, richer caste, to become a Brahmin/priest. But what is impossible in India because of the culture of the caste system is very possible in Christianity because of the culture of prayer, the cross, love and mercy.

Or take the cultural phenomenon of dating and marriage. In India typically parents pick your future spouse, or what’s commonly called “arranged marriages.” It is said Mahatma Gandhi did not see his bride until the day of his wedding. That reminds me of the Alan Jackson song about getting drunk and married. He sang: “The next thing I remember I was hearing wedding bells / Standing by a woman in a long white lacy veil / I raised the veil she smiled at me without her left front tooth / I said where the heck am I and just who the heck are you? / She said I was your waitress and our last name’s now the same / ‘Cause I’m married to you baby and I don’t even know your name.” So, maybe there is something to be said for parents picking your spouse.

But Christianity teaches marriage is not only for love, but for preparation for marriage to Christ. Human love leads to divine love; earthly marriage leads to heavenly marriage. That is why priests and nuns are celibate and completely committed to Christ: they remind us where every marriage is destined. And Christianity confronts and changes every culture it encounters not with weapons of mass destruction, but with only the arms of prayer, the cross, love and mercy.

Today, we hear the very brief but beautiful letter of St. Paul to Philemon. It is so short that most people forget it is even in the Bible, but we see all the counter-cultural forces of Christianity coming to bear on the phenomenon of slavery in the first century. St. Paul writes to Philemon about a run-away slave named Onesimus. Notices how Paul takes great pains to convince Philemon of the truth of Christianity and the evil of slavery. He writes: “I rather urge you out of love, being as I am, Paul, an old man, and now also a prisoner for Christ Jesus.” Paul appealed to love, mercy, prayer and the cross of Christ as the reasons why Philemon should treat Onesimus as a brother and not as a slave. Just like Christianity wins converts in India (like my family) not by political or military revolutions, but by the revolution of love, so Philemon should treat Onesimus not by first century Roman practice of slavery but by the Christian culture of love.

Where does the culture of Christianity still need to invade your life and plant its flag of prayer, the cross, love and mercy? Do you treat money by Christian standards or by worldly standards? Martin Luther said we undergo three conversions: the conversion of the head, the conversion of the heart, and the conversion of the pocketbook. The last is the hardest to give over to Christ. Pope Francis is trying mightily to tear down the power structures intrenched in the Church bureaucracy so that power is seen solely as service and not as superiority. That’s the Christian sense of power, not the worldly sense. And there is so much cultural confusion about sex, its meaning, its purpose, its use and abuse; sex is treated as a commodity in our culture. We can turn to our culture to teach us the truth about sex or we can turn to Christ and his Church.

Since its inception, Christianity has been waging culture wars, not with guns and swords, but with prayer, the cross, love and mercy. Do you know who will win that war in the end? I think I do. Everyone else will have to wait and see.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Who and Whose

Remembering we are made in the image and likeness of God

11/14/2018

Luke 17:11-19 As Jesus continued his journey to Jerusalem, he traveled through Samaria and Galilee. As he was entering a village, ten lepers met him. They stood at a distance from him and raised their voice, saying, "Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!" And when he saw them, he said, "Go show yourselves to the priests." As they were going they were cleansed. And one of them, realizing he had been healed, returned, glorifying God in a loud voice; and he fell at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. He was a Samaritan. Jesus said in reply, "Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?" Then he said to him, "Stand up and go; your faith has saved you."

I have a priest-friend, Fr. Warren Harvey, who has a penchant for saying: “Never forget who you are, and whose you are.” Not only is that a very catchy saying, it is also a very profoundly true saying, and the two elements – who and whose – are closely connected to each other, and shed light on each other. Who we are are human persons endowed with intelligence and freedom, while whose we are indicates we are children of God, created in God’s image and likeness. We are not only the final product of the long, slow process of evolution, where we climbed out of the muck and mire of the primeval matter to stand erect and rule the world and reach out to the stars. But we are also given all our greatness by the hand of God, who fashioned the first man and woman out of the dust of the earth, but also bestowed his own breath – in Hebrew ruah – his spirit, in us. As a result, we achieve nothing without him, we belong utterly to him as a baby belongs utterly to the mother while in her womb. We must strive every day to recall not only who we are, but also whose we are. Both components are critical for us to find peace and joy.

The French philosopher, Etienne Gilson, suggested that the fault of the first sin, and indeed every subsequent sin ever committed, has this failure to remember who we are and whose we are at its core. He wrote in densely philosophical language, “Thus the radical contingence of the finite being (that’s me and you) brings it into absolute dependence on necessary Being (that’s God), to Whom all must be principally referred as to its Source…” He continues, and here’s the take-home message: “If we forget this the original transgression [of Adam and Eve] is re-enacted in ourselves, or rather it is just because its effects continue that we forget it so easily” (The Spirit of Medieval Philosophy, 129). That is an extremely elaborate way of saying the same thing Fr. Harvey said: “Never forget who you are and whose you are.” In a sense, that forgetfulness was at the root of Adam and Eve’s sin, and that same amnesia belies all of our sins. We forget whose we are; and that even our every breath comes from the divine lungs, like a first responder giving a dying man CPR.

In the gospel today, ten lepers are cleansed by Jesus. But only one of them returns to give thanks and to glorify God. It seems remarkable that the other nine should so soon forget the source of their blessing, namely, Jesus, the Son of God. But then again maybe it should not surprise us that so many forget who they are and whose they are. Could that proportion of one to nine be the approximate number of those who choose to remember the Source of all blessings, and those who foolishly forget? And notice it is a “sin of omission” – they failed to do something, they did not remember. The other nine did not kill anyone, they did not rob a bank, they did not lie or cheat. They simply forgot who they were and whose they were. That forgetfulness lies at the root of all human sin and frailty.

I believe that modern-day atheism is a collective and coerced amnesia that is being inflicted on our society. Slowly but very systematically, God is being removed from the public square and from the public dialogue, and being relegated to the closet and to an after-thought. Now, when we pray in public, what do we do? We observe a moment of silence, we stare into a void, where no one is listening and no one is answering. Radical atheists like Richard Dawkins argues in his book The God Delusion that religion is to blame for humanity’s greatest miseries: wars, oppression, racism, genocide. I know that some of this movement is well-intentioned and there is some truth to the arguments of the atheists. But the bottom line is that we are forgetting who we are precisely because we are ignoring whose we are.

If we are not the children of God, whose children will we be? Like the ugly duckling in the Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale, we will go around asking aimlessly, “Are you my mother? Are you my mother? Are you my mother?” That is, until we find our way home to God, and realize we are made in his image and likeness, and far more splendid than even a beautiful, white swan.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Feet to the Fire

Praying and doing penance for our bishops

11/12/2018

Titus 1:1-9 For this reason I left you in Crete so that you might set right what remains to be done and appoint presbyters in every town, as I directed you, on condition that a man be blameless, married only once, with believing children who are not accused of licentiousness or rebellious. For a bishop as God's steward must be blameless, not arrogant, not irritable, not a drunkard, not aggressive, not greedy for sordid gain, but hospitable, a lover of goodness, temperate, just, holy, and self-controlled, holding fast to the true message as taught so that he will be able both to exhort with sound doctrine and to refute opponents.

May I make a somewhat strange request of you? Would you join me in three days of prayer, and even a little penance, for our U.S. bishops? There are 441 active and retired Catholic bishops in the United States who will all be meeting this week in Baltimore for three days, from November 12-14. To give you a little perspective, there are 435 representatives in the U.S. House of Representatives, so the two bodies are roughly equivalent in size.

Our prayerful and penitential support of our episcopal leaders is urgent because one of the topics they will address is their own responsibility and accountability for the clergy sexual abuse crisis. Here’s what the USCCB (United States Conference of Catholic Bishops) website states about their meeting: “During the assembly the bishops will discuss and vote on a series of concrete measures to respond to the abuse crisis…such as third party reporting mechanisms, standards of conduct for bishops, and protocols for bishops resigned or removed for abuse.” In other words, the bishops are going to hold their own feet to the fire when it comes to accountability for the abuse crisis, and that has been lacking, at least legally-speaking.

But they do have a serious challenge. No one bishop can fire another bishop, and even the whole body of bishops of a country – called the episcopal conference – cannot fire a bishop. A bishop’s boss is the pope, who alone hires him and can therefore fire him. To understand why that’s the case, imagine the position of us pastors. I cannot fire Fr. Juan Guido as the pastor of Christ the King, that would exceed my authority as pastor of Immaculate Conception. Furthermore, even if all the priests of a deanery decided together to oust Fr. Juan from CTK, we would have no authority to do that. A pastor is appointed by the bishop and a pastor is removed by the bishop. We may not like that, but that would be a personal problem.

Similarly with bishops. The episcopal conference can police itself only up to a certain point, but it has no authority to appoint bishops to a certain diocese, nor can it remove bishops from a certain diocese. Only the pope enjoys that prerogative. That is why the bishops need our prayers and our penance, so the Holy Spirit will guide them to put the needs of the Church above any of their own personal fears or failures, any individual gain or glory.

Today is the first day our 441 bishops are together in Baltimore and they will all celebrate Mass together this evening. How providential that they, too, will hear the first reading from Titus. St. Paul urges his newly ordained Bishop Titus, saying: “For a bishop as God’s steward must be blameless, not arrogant, not irritable, not a drunkard, not aggressive, not greedy for sordid gain, but hospitable, a lover of goodness, temperate, just, holy, and self-controlled, holding fast to the true message as taught so that he will be able to exhort with sound doctrine and to refute opponents.” Wow, talk about holding your episcopal feet to the fire. St. Paul lists the do’s and don’t’s of a bishop in the first century and also for those in the 21st century.

As if that were not enough inspiration for the bishops, today (November 12) is also the feast day of St. Josaphat. He was an archbishop who died trying to maintain the unity of the Church between Catholics and Orthodox in Poland. Mobs killed him and he died a martyr for the faith in 1623. Priests wear red vestments at Mass today to symbolize the blood he shed as a bishop for Jesus. The scriptures provide our bishops with their job description, and St. Josaphat supplies our bishops with a saintly example of how to fulfill that job description. And that is why our bishops need our prayers and our penance. Our bishops must achieve bravery and courage of heroic proportions today.

Let me add one last word. Please do not let personal disagreements or conflicts with our bishops prevent you from praying and doing penance for them. I regret that I too have had my disagreements and dislikes and I have not always been charitable in my speech. We often disagree and argue with our spouse and even with our best friends, but that does not mean we stop loving them or abandon them in their hour of need. So, try to put aside your pet peeves and personal dislikes, and join in solidarity with our bishops for these three days they meet in Baltimore. Let us pray they receive the grace to be brave bishops today, like Titus and Josaphat were back in their day.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Mountains and Molehills

Giving for joy and as second-nature, not for notoriety

11/11/2018

Mark 12:41-44 Jesus sat down opposite the treasury and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, "Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood."

Let me ask you a question: do you like to give money in the collection at Mass on Sunday? Boy, talk about a loaded question!  Don’t worry, I won’t make you raise your hand to answer, and cause you to lie in church.  If you do not like to give in the collection, you are not alone. Many Sunday mornings as a small boy I remember riding home from Mass in the backseat of my parents’ car listening to my father complaining about some priest and his sermon on giving more money. I thought to myself: “Man, I’m glad I’m not that priest!” Well, today, I am that priest, and you kids will probably hear your parents complain about me on the ride home today. Sorry, kids, just put in your earbuds on the ride home.

But the famous Pareto Principle applies to Catholic church contributions, that is, twenty percent of the people give eighty percent of the Sunday collection, and eighty percent of the people only give twenty percent of the contributions. Each family here can probably figure out pretty quickly whether you land in the twenty percent column or the eighty percent column. And there are some people, who for their own reasons, choose not to give anything at all. I do not mean to make anyone feel bad about their giving, but I want to paint the landscape of church finances with its peaks and valleys, its mountains and molehills.

But there is a third category of givers besides the twenty percent and the eighty percent. This third category of a fortunate few give because they have found the joy of giving. They are not concerned about receiving a tax-deduction for their donation, they do not need to be acknowledged with a plaque or a statue for their gift, and they might even feel embarrassed to receive such attention. They give because generosity has become second nature to them; they can’t help themselves.

In this sense, they have become a little like God, who in the beginning created the heavens and the earth out of nothing, in Latin ex nihilo. He not only created out of nothing, he got nothing in return, he received no reward for his effort. Giving is God’s nature. And the Son of God imitates his Father. He came to earth to suffer, die and rise on the third day and ended up with not one drop more glory than he had while he was happily in heaven. Jesus did not climb the Cross for notoriety, but because it was his nature. And the Holy Spirit inspires certain special souls likewise to be generous givers, expecting nothing in return. Why? Because the joy of giving is its own reward. There are, therefore, three grades of givers: some people give nothing, some give a certain percentage, and a few give for joy, they have learned to give like God. Giving has become their nature.

This gradation of giving may shed some light on the two poor widows we meet in the scripture readings today. The first is the widow of Zarepath, whom Elijah audaciously asks to prepare a meal for him, even though she’s about to die. When she protests that her last mouthful will be for herself and her son, Elijah assures her saying, “But first make me a little cake and bring it to me. Then you can prepare something for yourself and your son.” And God provided for her as Elijah promised. Elijah was inviting the widow to give generously – even to the point of death – and amazingly she did. Why? Well, because she had reached the heights of holiness and gave like God. Giving was her nature.

In the gospel, Jesus praises another poor but generous widow who contributed two small coins in the temple treasury. Jesus compared her giving to others that day (kind of like I did a moment ago), saying: “They have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.” These two wonderful widows would not fall into the twenty percent or even the eighty percent category of givers. Rather, they gave generously without expecting any reward, save the joy of giving, and that is how God gives. Giving was their nature.

Today I am grateful to Fr. Matt and Fr. Peter for allowing me to celebrate the Masses here, to speak about Trinity, and ask your help in a second collection. And there is only one thing I want to say about Trinity: we try to teach our students to be givers rather than takers. Those are ultimately the only two kinds of people in the world: givers and takers. We want to raise up a generation of young people who give like God, because giving has become second nature to them. Of course, we teach them math and science, they participate in cheerleading and sports, and we pray at weekly Mass and before each class. But underneath all that, we hope each student also learns there are different levels of giving, and they strive to give like God so they might experience the joy of giving. I am convinced that is why Catholic schools inspire vocations to the priesthood and religious life: People who give their whole lives without any reward except the joy of giving. In a Catholic school at least each student learns that giving is greater than getting, because that is what God does, and they experience a higher happiness.

I am sorry if this whole sermon sounded like a sales-pitch to you. If it is, then it’s the sales pitch I have fallen for, and bought with my whole life as a priest. If you do not feel like giving anything in the collection today, that is okay. At least I want you to leave today having learned there are different levels of giving: and the highest and the holiest and the happiness level of giving is to give like God and to feel his joy. That is when giving has become second nature.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Mother Church

Feeling at home in the church until we reach our heavenly home

11/09/2018

John 2:13-22 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.

There is an ancient Jewish aphorism that teaches: “the temple is to space what the Sabbath is to time.” You may recall how holy the Sabbath day is to Jews and Christians alike. Heck, we even have one whole commandment out of the ten of the Decalogue (it’s number three, by the way), to safe-guard its sanctity, “Keep holy the Sabbath day.” It is on the basis of the biblical concept of creation and resting on the seventh day – and later the Christian addition of Sunday as the Sabbath of the new creation – that the modern work week and the two day rest came to be. We all know how important rest is to our health but also to our holiness, which is why the rock band Loverboy sang, “Everybody’s working for the weekend.”

The Sabbath should be experienced like a little heaven on earth, the moment we put down the tools of our trade (our work), and rest in the Lord, and pay greater attention to our neighbor. It symbolizes, therefore, not only the end of the week but also the end of life. The Sabbath is our ultimate destination, in a word, heaven.

Once your grasp the meaning of the second half of the aphorism about the Sabbath, it makes it considerably easier to comprehend the first half, that is, the significance of the temple. Just like we need to carve a little time out of our week to worship the Lord, so we need to set aside some space in our lives for the Lord. For the Jews the quintessential sacred space was Jerusalem and in particular the Temple. In the Old Testament the city of Jerusalem and the Jerusalem Temple in particular symbolized God’s throne on earth, his chosen palace. That’s why it was so devastating when the Jews were deported to Babylon (they felt kicked out of God’s house), and why it was equally urgent they return and reconstruct the Temple as soon as possible. This is also why the Jews will never stop fighting for full possession of Jerusalem and Israel, and likewise why they feel no need to share it with the Arabs or the Christians. The Sabbath day consecrates time and the Jerusalem Temple consecrates space, and together they both point to a kind of paradise on earth, our ultimate home, the Father’s house.

Today might seem like a strange feast day to most Catholics: the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome. Usually our feasts are focused on the saints, but this time it’s a building. Why? Well, because we are all Jewish-Christians, the Jews are our spiritual ancestors, and they have taught us the ancient faith. We read the Old Testament as well as the New Testament. In other words, Catholics can applaud the aphorism: “The temple is to space what the Sabbath is to time.” And for a Catholic, a cathedral always holds a high place among all the churches (the temples) of a given diocese.

The cathedral contains the cathedra, the chair of the bishop, the principal shepherd. The cathedra is where a cathedral gets its name. But the cathedral is also the mother church in the diocese, and therefore, all Catholics are its parishioners. How many parishioners does the Cathedral of St. Andrew have in Little Rock? 122,842. Well, the Lateran Basilica is the cathedral church of the pope, and therefore the mother church of all Catholics world-wide. So how many parishioners does St. John Lateran Cathedral have? 1,285,000,000. I’m glad I’m not the pastor of that church.

But the reason we recognize the importance of a building is because it carves a little space out of this world and leaves it exclusively for God’s purposes. It is for his use alone. Of course, God is present everywhere, but it is always special to spend time in God’s house, just like it is always special when someone comes to your home. You do not let just anyone come into your home, because your most cherished treasures are inside. When someone comes into your home, they sort of step into your world.

Thank you for carving out a little time and a little space for God today by coming to Mass in this holy place. This is a small symbolic taste of the eternal rest at the end of our life of work on earth, when we will step into the Father’s house, heaven, the mother church of all creation.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Fort Smith Military Academy

Embracing the high standards of Catholic schools

11/07/2018

Luke 14:25-33 Great crowds were traveling with Jesus, and he turned and addressed them, "If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother,  wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. Which of you wishing to construct a tower does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if there is enough for its completion? Otherwise, after laying the foundation and finding himself unable to finish the work the onlookers should laugh at him and say, 'This one began to build but did not have the resources to finish.' Or what king marching into battle would not first sit down and decide whether with ten thousand troops he can successfully oppose another king advancing upon him with twenty thousand troops? But if not, while he is still far away, he will send a delegation to ask for peace terms.  In the same way, everyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple."

One of the biggest decisions you will make as a teenager is which college you will attend. Different colleges and universities have different levels of difficulty; some are fairly easy while others are really hard. But do you know the hardest colleges to get into? They are the military academies; the well-known ones are West Point, Air Force Academy, and the Naval Academy, but there are others, too.

My nephew, Isaac, just started at West Point, the academy for the U.S. Army. The first thing they did was shave his head, and the poor guy had a lot of hair, as Taylor Swift sang, Isaac was “the fella over there with the hella good hair,” but not anymore. Before school started he endured a boot-camp called Beast Barracks, a lot harder than Coach’s Vitale’s summer football practice. He gets up at 5 a.m. every day and lights have to be off by 10 p.m. After graduating from West Point, Isaac will have to serve in the U.S. Army as an officer for five years.

In other words, if you choose a military academy for your college, you are not taking the easy college life of frat parties, and sleeping in late, and skipping class. You are asking for a life of personal discipline, academic rigor, and patriotism over pleasure. I am so proud of my nephew, Isaac, because he has chosen the road less traveled, because not many make it into a military academy. He will look back on his years at West Point with great pride and deep satisfaction.

Back in September, 2017, these high standards of the military academies were put to the test when someone wrote a racial slur on the door of an African American cadet’s room at the Air Force Academy. Someone wrote: “Go home, you so-and-so.” Lt. General Jay Silveria, the superintendent of the Air Force Academy, gave a no-nonsense speech stating that racism would not be tolerated. He called an assembly of all the cadets, who all stood at attention, while the general declared: “Just so you are clear on where I stand on this most important topic, let me leave you with my most important thought. If you demean someone in any way, you need to get out. If you cannot respect someone of a different gender, whether man or woman, you need to get out. If you cannot treat someone from another race, a different color skin, with dignity and respect, then you need to get out.”  The general’s speech went viral on Youtube and had over one million views. In other words, the general made it clear to all 4,237 cadets: you have a choice of which college to attend, and if you choose to come here, expect high standards and uncompromising values. Otherwise, get out and attend another school which is easier.

In the gospel today, Jesus sounds a lot like General Silveria in the high expectations he sets for his disciples. He says: “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.” Jesus is giving his followers a clear choice. They do not have to follow him, but if they choose to, they are electing the hard road, the way of the cross. Christianity is not the easy path.

Other religions and philosophies offer people easier roads in life, they promise pleasure and popularity, fun and frolic. Choosing Christianity, however, is like choosing to attend one of the military academies: you choose the cross, self-sacrifice, discipline, and pain over pleasure. If you do not want to carry your cross, then as General Silveria said, “you need to get out.” But here’s the payoff: when we choose Christianity, we also find the sure path to peace and joy, a life that we can be proud of having lived.

Boys and girls, each of you has chosen to attend Trinity Junior High, or maybe your parents chose this school for you, but in any case you are here. However you got here, though, I want to be very clear with you that there are high standards and lofty expectations here, especially in three areas. And I do not want you to forget this. First, academics: you will have homework every day, you will have tests several times a week and sometimes several tests in one day, you will cover a chapter a week in some classes. If you don’t want such high academic standards and challenges, then you need to get out and find an easier school.

Second, discipline: you will wear a uniform, boys will have short haircuts (be glad we don’t shave your heads), you can only have certain color socks, and your phone should be in your locker. If you don’t want that kind of discipline in school, then you need to get out and find an easier school.

And third, Christianity: we respect each other as if the other person were Jesus himself, we pray together in Mass and we pray for each other, we love the poor and have to complete service hours. Let me paraphrase General Silveria’s words and address them to you: “If you demean someone in any way, you need to get out of Trinity Junior High. If you cannot treat someone from another race, or different color skin, or another gender, with dignity and respect, then you need to get out of Trinity Junior High.” Trinity is not an easy school.

If you choose to attend this Catholic school, or even if your parents have forced you to come to this school, this is what you can expect; otherwise, you are free to leave. These are the uncompromising values to which we will hold every student, every teacher, and every staff member – including Fr. John and Fr. Stephen. And if you don’t want to live by those standards, then you need to get out. Attending Trinity is like the junior high version of a military academy here in Fort Smith. If you do not want to live by these high standards, then you are free to go to another school where things will be much easier: no uniforms, no prayer, no homework, no service hours.

But I can promise you this: if you graduate from Trinity Junior High, you will look back one day on these hard years and feel a lot of pride and satisfaction. Why? Because you took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference, as the poet Robert Frost famously said. You will feel deep pride and great satisfaction because you did something hard, and not something easy. But the choice is yours.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Hard of Hearing

Learning to love well by first learning to listen well

11/04/2018

Mark 12:28B-34 One of the scribes came to Jesus and asked him, "Which is the first of all the commandments?" Jesus replied, "The first is this: Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is Lord alone! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength. The second is this: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these." The scribe said to him, "Well said, teacher. You are right in saying, 'He is One and there is no other than he.' And 'to love him with all your heart, with all your understanding, with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself' is worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices." And when Jesus saw that he answered with understanding, he said to him, "You are not far from the kingdom of God." And no one dared to ask him any more questions."

Today’s Scriptures speak eloquently and expansively about the love of God. You probably know that at every Mass the Old Testament reading and the Gospel reading always suggest a similar theme and this Sunday it is the love of God. But notice how Jesus expands love of God to encompass also the love of neighbor, and thereby constitutes the fundamental, two-fold command of love. You cannot really love God while ignoring your neighbor, and genuine love of neighbor will lead you eventually to love of God. These two commandments are intimately and inextricably intertwined, like C. S. Lewis startling said: “Sex is more than four bare legs in a bed” (God in the Dock, 320). That is, spousal love always bespeaks a sort of sacred love: love of God and love of neighbor go together.

May I suggest that a link between these two loves – love of God and love of neighbor – is the art of listening or hearing? In twenty-three years as a priest, I have prepared countless couples for marriage, and counseled couples in troubled marriages, and worked on annulments for couples who called it quits in marriage. In virtually every case, there was a break-down in hearing the other person.

Let me illustrate how valuable hearing is with a little humor. Every night Harry went out drinking. And every night, his wife Louise yelled at him. One day, one of Louise’s friends suggested that she try a different tack. She said, “Welcome Harry home with a kiss and some loving words. He might change his ways.” So, later that night, Harry stumbled back home as usual. But instead of berating him, Louise helped him into an easy chair, put his feet up on the ottoman, removed his shoes, and gently massaged his neck. Louise whispered, “It’s late. I think we should go upstairs to bed now, don’t you think?” “Might as well,” Harry replied, “I’ll get in trouble if I go home.” You know, if I had met a woman like that I might have gotten married instead of become a priest. Harry’s handicap was a hardness of hearing. Because he had stopped listening to Louise, he had stopped loving Louise, but once he started listening again, he started loving again. You cannot love someone you will not listen to, and that hardness of hearing maybe directed to your mate, or it may be aimed at your Maker.

In the gospel of Mark, a scribe asks Jesus, “Which is the first of all the commandments?” But before Jesus teaches the double commandment of love of God and love of neighbor, he says, “Shema Yisrael!” which is Hebrew and means, “Hear, O Israel!” That is the most famous dictum in all Judaism. It was said twice a day at morning and evening prayers, and it was repeated like a mantra by pious Jews as they fell asleep at night. Jesus emphasizes listening before loving. Before you can love God “with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength,” you must hear him and listen attentively. Otherwise, his words of wisdom will go in one ear and out the other, like Louise’s words when she berated Harry for his drinking. The reason the Old Testament prophets predicted disasters to befall Israel was not only because of their hard hearts but primarily because of their closed ears. Hence, the Jews ceaselessly repeated, “Shema Yisrael!” “Hear, O Israel!”

May I offer us all a few tips on how to soften our hardness of hearing and hardness of heart so we can listen a little better, and thereby love God and neighbor? First of all, when you pray, seek a space where there is silence and solitude. Jesus regularly woke up early and went off alone to pray to his Father, sometimes spending the entire night in prayer, as it says in Luke 6:12. Jesus could hear his Father in the silence. I write my daily Mass homilies at 4:30 in the morning. Why? I can hear the Holy Spirit better when I cannot hear my phone or computer or television. Silence and solitude helps us to hear so that we may listen and then we can love God better.

Secondly, I encourage spouses to take time to regularly to remove distractions and listen lovingly to each other. Children are a priority in a family, of course, and demand time and energy and love. How easily parents give their full attention to their children and listen attentively to their pains and problems, their triumphs and tragedies, no matter how small they may seem. But also save some of that hearing and listening when your spouse speaks. Otherwise, hardness of hearing may lead to hardness of heart, and you may be coming to see me for marriage counseling. Couples who do not hear and listen well may wake up one day to find their love is reduced to “four bare legs in a bed.”

Thirdly, learn to listen and hear the cry of the poor. Psalm 34 teaches us that “the Lord hears the cry of the poor.” God’s ears perk up when the poor pray to him. And the “Hound of Heaven” as the poet Francis Thompson described God, goes in hot pursuit. I am very proud of Deacon Greg and the St. Anne Society that not only give the poor in our community a hand, but they also give them an ear; they hear their stories, they heard about their families, and they hear about their hopes and dreams.  And what happens?  The poor feel loved as person, rather than patronized as second-class citizens. If we can learn to hear with God’s ears, we will be able to love with God’s heart.

We cannot really love someone we will not listen to. The first step in curing hardness of heart, therefore, is addressing hardness of hearing.  Shema, Yisrael! Hear, O Israel!

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Surprises in Heaven

Learning to love the unseen God and the seen neighbor

11/01/2018

Revelation 7:2-4, 9-14 I, John, saw another angel come up from the East, holding the seal of the living God. He cried out in a loud voice to the four angels who were given power to damage the land and the sea, "Do not damage the land or the sea or the trees until we put the seal on the foreheads of the servants of our God." I heard the number of those who had been marked with the seal, one hundred and forty-four thousand marked from every tribe of the children of Israel. After this I had a vision of a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue. They stood before the throne and before the Lamb, wearing white robes and holding palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice: "Salvation comes from our God, who is seated on the throne, and from the Lamb."

Who do you think you will spend eternity with in heaven? Now that we have built our columbarium and parishioners can inter their cremains in a niche, that question has come up more than once. Who will I spend eternity with? Some people discreetly ask Cindy McNally, who manages whose ashes go where: “Could you make sure that my niche is not next to so-and-so’s niche? I don’t want to be his neighbor for all eternity.” Well, guess what? That person will be exactly who they will be next to in purgatory and probably also in paradise. Cindy may keep you away from them, but God will put you right next to them.

Isn’t that the purpose of purgatory: to purge away our lack of love for our neighbor? We cannot love the God who is in heaven until we learn to love our neighbor who is on earth, even if he is in the niche next door. We read in 1 John 4:20 these challenging words: “For whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen.”

Archbishop Fulton Sheen made this same point very memorably when he said: “When we get to heaven, there will be three surprises. First, there will not be people there whom we fully expected to make it but didn’t. Second, there will be people there whom we did not expect to make it, but did. And third and biggest surprise of all is that we ourselves might make it.” The good archbishop is indicating that a sort of “uncertainty principle” prevails in paradise. That is, we cannot know for certain who will and who will not be saved. Salvation is “worked out in fear and trembling” as we read in Philippians 2:12.

The collision and collaboration of a person’s inalienable and utter freedom with God’s omnipotent and irresistible grace cannot be deciphered with catchy sayings and easy explanations. St. Augustine said that “God created us without our help, but he will not save us without our consent.” In other words, who we will ultimately spend eternity with in heaven will remain a sealed secret until we get there and Jesus opens the Book of Life and read the names of the Blessed.

In the first reading today, St. John gives us a glimpse of who we will spend eternity with in heaven. Surprisingly, he sees two groups of people. Here’s how he describes the first group: “I heard the number of those who had been marked with the seal, one hundred and forty-four thousand from every tribe of the children of Israel.” I interpret that passage to mean not literally that number (144,000), but a symbolic number of all the baptized. Baptism is being “marked with the seal” because we are sealed and adopted as God’s own children, just like the Jews were sealed and adopted in the Old Testament when they passed through the Red Sea. This first group St. John sees, therefore, falls into the first category of Archbishop Fulton Sheen, namely, “those we did expect to make it to heaven.” In a word, Christians.

But then St. John describes another group, saying, “After this I had a vision of a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people and tongue.” In other words, here is a vast array – indeed, it is countless – of people who are not “marked with the seal” of baptism but are nonetheless in heaven. These non-Christians have also somehow sneaked into heaven, and they would fall into Fulton Sheen’s second surprise category of the saved, that is, “those we did not expect to make it to heaven.” St. John seems to suggest that who makes it to heaven – and conversely, who does not make it – is a great mystery and even defies denominations. We cannot comfortably sit on our couches and say, “All Catholics will make it to heaven.” Our salvation, who we will spend all eternity with, has to be worked out in fear and trembling, daily and deliberately cooperating with God's grace.

Today is the feast of All Saints, and this feast invites us to reflect deeply on the seemingly simple question, “Who will you spend eternity with?” On this feast the Church teaches us that there will be people in heaven – by the way, everyone who is in heaven is a saint – that we did not expect to make it. May I suggest to you some categories of people we might find hard to believe will be among the blessed? Some may hold that Muslims will not make it to heaven, or that Buddhists don’t have a prayer to make it to Paradise, or that people on death row will find the Pearly Gates locked. Some Protestants are convinced that Catholics will not be saved. As a Catholic priest, I sure hope they are wrong. You might have your own personal category of people you hope is not in heaven, like some parishioners hope so-and-so is not in the niche next door. I would suggest to you that is one reason for this feast of All Saints, namely, to broaden our horizons regarding heaven. The second surprise in heaven is that there will be people there we did not expect to make it, but still did.

Is there anyone you do not get along with on earth? Is there anyone you do not want buried in the niche next to you? That is the neighbor we must learn to love. If we don’t, they will be precisely the people we will find in purgatory, and probably the people we will see in Paradise. That is, if we make it ourselves.

Praised be Jesus Christ!