The Eternal Conversation

Being the topic of discussion between Father and Son

01/21/2018

Mark 1:14-20 After John had been arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the gospel of God: "This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel." As he passed by the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting their nets into the sea; they were fishermen. Jesus said to them, "Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men." Then they abandoned their nets and followed him. He walked along a little farther and saw James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John. They too were in a boat mending their nets. Then he called them. So they left their father Zebedee in the boat along with the hired men and followed him.

            It is generally known that the famed author Jane Austen never recorded a dialogue between two men in a room by themselves. Since she never personally witnessed such a conversation first-hand, she couldn’t imagine what on earth two men would talk about. It’s probably nothing at all; two men can just sit and not say a word. But she might also ask Randy Travis. In his hit song, “For Ever and Ever, Amen,” Randy Travis explains what men will always be talking about: “As long as old men sit and talk about the weather, as long as old women sit and talk about old men.”

             But Jane might also wonder, what the subject of conversation could be when it’s not two men, but the two Persons of the Holy Trinity talking, namely, the Father and the Son. What could the Father and the Son be talking about forever in heaven? Surely, it can’t be the weather. The Father says: “Hey, it’s 70 degrees and sunshine, again!” Jesus replies: “Wow, I never saw that coming!” Pope Francis wrote about this eternal conversation in the heart of the Holy Trinity in his first major encyclical called “The Light of Faith,” saying, “God speaks about himself, for he is an eternal dialogue of communion, and he allows us to enter into this dialogue” (Lumen fidei, 36). Did you catch that last part? That is, not only is God talking about himself to himself, but he is also talking about us. Jane Austen might be surprised to learn that the Father and the Son are talking about her!

         Have you ever enjoyed a conversation so much that you wish would never end? A dialogue of such openness, trust and joy that you almost forgot your surroundings and were transported to another time and place? I’ll never forget St. Augustine’s description of the sublime conversation he shared with St. Monica, his mother overlooking the sea at Ostia, on the coast of Italy. Their dialogue took them to the heights of heaven, where they heard the hidden eternal conversation of the Father and the son, but then suddenly descend back to earth because it was too glorious for them. Augustine regrets: “Then with a sigh…we returned to the sound of our own tongue, where the spoken word had both a beginning and an end. But what is like to thy Word, our Lord, who remaineth in himself without becoming old, and ‘makes all things new’?” (Confessions, Bk. IX, Ch. 10). But I am convinced that when Augustine and Monica eavesdropped on that heavenly conversation, they also heard the Father and the Son talking about them! The subject matter of that eternal conversation inside God is definitely about God, but it is also decidedly about you and me.

              The gospel of Mark is the shortest of the four gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – because it contains only sixteen chapters. Nevertheless, it is not short on inspiration and invitations to enter into the divine dialogue. Jesus calls his first apostles, two sets of brothers, Simon and Andrew, James and John. The surprising thing is how immediately and completely they abandon their former life and unreservedly follow Jesus. But I believe something more is going on than meets the eyes, or even meets the ears! St. Thomas Aquinas taught that because Jesus is God, he beheld the Beatific Vision – that is, God himself – from the moment of his conception in the Blessed Virgin Mary (Summa Theologica, Part III, Q. 7, Art. 3). Jesus saw God with his mind’s eye. But that also means Jesus never left that eternal conversation with the Father in heaven: Jesus also heard God with his mind’s ear. Therefore, when Simon and Andrew, James and John hear Jesus speak to them, they are swept up into that same sublime conversation as Augustine and Monica were, and they hear God talking about them. They are transported to another time and place, namely, heaven, and there it’s very easy to leave everything and follow Jesus. Pay attention every time Jesus speaks in the Scriptures, his audience not only hears his voice, they also hear a distant echo of that eternal conversation in heaven, and they are deeply moved.

          Thanks to our faith – which comes from hearing St. Paul said in Romans 10:17 – we can make an educated guess about the content of that eternal conversation, paraphrasing Jane Austen, “what are the Father and the Son talking about?” I believe they have at least three topics of conversation. First, God talks about how much he loves us. Augustine and Monica, Simon and Andrew, James and John all heard the words from heaven uttered at Jesus’ baptism as if they were directed at them: you are my beloved son (beloved daughter), in whom I am well pleased. In other words, God says “I love you.” Second, God speaks about how he wants us to be happy. Not just happy on earth, but ultimately and eternally happy in heaven. And third, God speaks about the cross we must carry if we want to make it to heaven. St. John says that on the cross Jesus’ glory was revealed (cf. John 17). Archbishop Fulton Sheen eloquently said, “There can be no Easter Sunday resurrection, without a Good Friday crucifixion.” We cannot enjoy the glory of God without carrying the cross of Christ. That’s what we hear when we are swept up into the eternal conversation between the Father and the Son: love, happiness and a cross.

           At every Mass, you and I get to eavesdrop on that eternal conversation between the Father and the Son, too. You may have noticed at Mass that sometimes the priest addresses the people but at other times he addresses God. The priest plays the part of Jesus speaking with the Father. That always reminds me of that old joke about the priest who couldn’t get his wireless microphone to work. He says under his breath: “This dang mic won’t work!” And the people all respond, “And with your spirit.” That’s about our level of participation in the eternal conversation.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Bless Not Bind

Bestowing names upon others but respecting their freedom

01/19/2018

Mark 3:13-19 Jesus went up the mountain and summoned those whom he wanted and they came to him. He appointed Twelve, whom he also named Apostles, that they might be with him and he might send them forth to preach  and to have authority to drive out demons: He appointed the Twelve: Simon, whom he named Peter;  James, son of Zebedee, and John the brother of James, whom he named Boanerges, that is, sons of thunder; Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James the son of Alphaeus; Thaddeus, Simon the Cananean, and Judas Iscariot who betrayed him.

            When you bestow a name upon someone – like a baby when it’s born, for instance – you bless them but you do not bind them. That reminds me of that joke about the new Catholic convert. A Baptist man moved into a neighborhood of all Catholics. It was Lent and a Friday, and the Baptist decided to grill a juicy steak for dinner. The neighboring Catholics caught the smell and were sorely tempted. This happened Friday after Friday, so the Catholics had to do something. They eventually convinced the man to become Catholic and took him to St. Mary’s. The priest sprinkled some water over him and said, “You were born a Baptist, you were raised a Baptist, but now you are a Catholic.”  Everyone went home happy. The next year when Lent rolled around again the smell of steaks on the grill again filled the neighborhood on Friday. The men rushed out to see the former Baptist standing over his steak with some water saying, “You were born a cow, you were raised a cow, but now you are a fish.” I know a few cradle Catholics who’ve tried that blessing before a meal in Lent. Just because we change someone’s name – from “Baptist Bob” to “Catholic Carl” – doesn’t mean we can control their behavior, even if sometimes we’d like to. Changing a name blesses another person, it does not bind them.

             This is no different for Jesus. In some rare and significant times, Jesus bestows new names on people. In the gospel of Mark, he calls his closest disciples by the new name of “apostles,” which means “sent.” Jesus will send them into the world. Disciple means “learner,” but apostle means “teacher.” But Jesus also gives special names to specific apostles, when he wants to bless them even more. So, he changes “Simon’s” name to “Peter,” which means “rock,” because Jesus will build his Church on Peter the rock, and not on sand. But does that name change bind the apostles and Peter in such a way that they can no longer sin or abuse their freedom? Clearly not. We all remember very well how all the apostles abandon Jesus at the Cross (except John), and one of them, Judas Iscariot, betrays our Lord. And what about Peter, the so-called “rock”? Well, the rock crumbled in the courtyard of Caiaphas, when a slave girl asked him if he just knew Jesus. It’s as easy to make a mere man into an apostle as it is to change a cow into a fish. Bestowing a name blesses but it does not bind.

            This lesson about nomenclature has some surprising and maybe unpleasant applications for us today. Think about occasions when your name was changed or you bestowed a name upon someone else. We sometimes mistakenly believe we bind them to behave a certainly way, and not just bless them. Parents give their children names and rightly expect certain behavior. But when those children get older and move out of the home, some parents continue to expect they can bind their children to certain behavior, but they cannot. Bestowing a name blesses, but it does not bind. When a man is ordained as a priest, he is called “Father.” That is a profound name change, and carries the weight of the faith of so many people. We expect priests to behave according to high standards, and they should! But sometimes we priests don’t, because bestowing a name only blesses that individual, it does not bind them (even if he is a priest). The same is true in marriage. Married people’s names sometimes change. And we may mistakenly think that now I can control or bind my spouse to certain behavior, or make them avoid other behavior. But that’s not so.

          A new name does not automatically bestow a new character; that only happens in the hidden recesses of the heart, where freedom and grace embrace. It’s as easy to change another person from a sinner into a saint as it is to change a cow into a fish, just by calling it so.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Easy Company

Belonging to a band of brothers who choose the hard road

01/17/2018

1 Samuel 17:32-33, 37, 40-51 David spoke to Saul: "Let your majesty not lose courage. I am at your service to go and fight this Philistine." But Saul answered David, "You cannot go up against this Philistine and fight with him, for you are only a youth, while he has been a warrior from his youth." David continued: “The LORD, who delivered me from the claws of the lion and the bear, will also keep me safe from the clutches of this Philistine." Saul answered David, "Go! the LORD will be with you." Then, staff in hand, David selected five smooth stones from the wadi and put them in the pocket of his shepherd's bag. With his sling also ready to hand, he approached the Philistine. David put his hand into the bag and took out a stone, hurled it with the sling, and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone embedded itself in his brow, and he fell prostrate on the ground. Thus David overcame the Philistine with sling and stone; he struck the Philistine mortally, and did it without a sword. Then David ran and stood over him; with the Philistine's own sword which he drew from its sheath he dispatched him and cut off his head.

            Several years ago I watched one of the most gripping series called “Band of Brothers.” It’s about the World War II Army paratroopers unit called “Easy Company.” Their name is ironic because Easy Company never did anything “easy” in the war. In fact, they prided themselves on always getting the hardest assignments, thrown into the teeth of the enemy against insurmountable odds. For instance, they were among the first to land on D-Day on the beaches of Normandy to clear out the German artillery before the Allied Forces landed on Utah Beach. Easy Company fought at the Battle of the Bulge in Belgium. By the way, that’s how I remember where the Battle of the Bulge took place: “there’s a bulge in Belgium!” At one point First Lieutenant Spiers, to get a message to another company on the other side of a small town, runs through German lines, and through the town, and then back. One solider of Easy Company recalled, “The Germans were so shocked to see an American soldier running through their lines – they forgot to shoot!” Sometimes bravery is very close to bad judgment. But there was nothing easy about Easy Company; and that was their badge of honor.

            The book of Samuel recounts another great battle of insurmountable odds, of bravery bordering on bad judgment, and of one man who never took the easy way out. It’s the famous story of David versus Goliath, which has now become a cliché (an overused phrase). But the original event three thousand years ago was as inspiring as “Band of Brothers.” King Saul and the army of Israel faces the formidable forces of the Philistines, and their daunting champion, Goliath. But young David speaks up like First Lieutenant Spiers, and says to Saul, “Let your majesty not lose courage. I am at your service to go and fight this Philistine.” We all know how the story ends when David stands triumphant over the fallen Philistine and cuts off his head with Goliath’s own sword. The Army paratroopers of Easy Company would have been happy to have David as part of their “band of brothers.” Why? Because David never took the easy way, he ironically fit perfectly in Easy Company. There’s nothing easy about Easy Company.

           You and I are constantly faced with the choice to do something hard or to take the easy way out. But I encourage you to choose the harder path for one reason. Only in doing what’s arduous and painful and exhausting will you find joy in your work, and feel pride in your accomplishments. One day, that, too, will be your badge of honor.

             It’s not easy attending a Catholic school like Trinity. We give you lots of homework, the teachers are demanding, your parents ask you why you don’t have all A’s on your report card because they’re paying tuition and they want more for their money! You have to pray in Latin, you wear uniforms instead of the latest fashions, boys cannot have long hair, you cannot use cell phones, and even your socks can only be certain colors! So you have a choice to make between the hard road of a Catholic school or the relatively easy path of a public school. But only if you stick it out here will you look back someday with pride and pleasure and say, “I survived Mr. Bruce’s history class!”  The fact that 98% of our students return year after year means that you, too, could belong to Easy Company, who never did anything easy.

               Another group of people that could belong to the “band of brothers” are Catholic school teachers. Any one of them could take an easier path with more pay by teaching in a public school. But they take the hard road and make sacrifices to stay here. What I most admire about our teachers is their tolerance and toughness with students who are not very “easy company”! But they refuse to take the easy road and expel you because your teachers love you, and they gladly take the arduous path. Sometimes, they may feel like First Lieutenant Spiers in some classes like they’re running through German lines! I hope you’re so shocked by their bravery that you forget to shoot. There’s nothing easy about Easy Company.

             Do you know where that phrase “band of brothers” originated? It’s taken from Shakespeare’s play called “Henry V” and a spell-binding speech King Henry gave before a decisive battle against the French. Again, the English are facing overwhelming odds, and the French are already congratulating themselves on their victory, like Goliath was gloating before fighting David.. But Henry V rouses his troops saying, “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; / For he who sheds his blood with me / Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile/ This day shall gentle his condition” (Henry V, Act IV, Scene 3). Only those willing to shed their blood can belong to the band of brothers. There’s nothing easy about Easy Company.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Obedience School

Learning to obey our parents, spouses and the Church

01/15/2018

1 Samuel 15:16-23 Samuel said to Saul: "Stop! Let me tell you what the LORD said to me last night." Saul replied, "Speak!"  Samuel then said: "Though little in your own esteem, are you not leader of the tribes of Israel? The LORD anointed you king of Israel and sent you on a mission, saying, 'Go and put the sinful Amalekites under a ban of destruction. Fight against them until you have exterminated them.' Why then have you disobeyed the LORD? You have pounced on the spoil, thus displeasing the LORD." Saul answered Samuel: "I did indeed obey the LORD and fulfill the mission on which the LORD sent me. I have brought back Agag, and I have destroyed Amalek under the ban. But from the spoil the men took sheep and oxen, the best of what had been banned, to sacrifice to the LORD their God in Gilgal." But Samuel said: "Does the LORD so delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as in obedience to the command of the LORD? Obedience is better than sacrifice, and submission than the fat of rams.

             The word “obedience” has undergone a rather profound transformation in modern America, or as we say today, “a total makeover.” Alongside the sexual revolution of the sixties, there was a concomitant “obedience revolution” where obedience went from being a virtue (a good thing) to almost being a vice (a bad thing). After all, we send dogs to obedience school, and not our children. I wonder sometimes, though, as we teach our children more and more freedom and self-expression and creativity, we don’t inadvertently leave less and less room for obedience. I’ve talked with several business leaders who lament the fact that millennials are increasingly hard to train and teach their trade. They lack the virtue of obedience.

                To be sure, freedom and self-expression and creativity are all good things and well worth nurturing. But here’s the price we pay for a loss of obedience: we fail to learn self-mastery. That is, in the inner society of each human person, the will does not obey the intellect (the dictates of prudence), rather it obeys the passions. St. Thomas Aquinas explained how we experience obedience in our own inner lives teaching, “Hence, Gregory [the Great] says that ‘obedience is rightly preferred to sacrifices, because by sacrifices another’s body is slain whereas by obedience we slay our own will’” (Summa Theologica, II-IIae, Q. 104, Art. 1). In other words, we all need to go to obedience school, otherwise, we will not be truly free, but rather slaves to our own wills; we will obey our passions instead of our prudence.

               The book of Samuel illustrates a tragic incident where someone confused sacrifice and obedience. God has instructed - better, commanded - King Saul not only to defeat the sinful Amalekites, but to destroy them, to annihilate them, to exterminate them off the face of the earth. But Saul behaves like many millennials do today and obeys his own will rather than the will of God. Saul rationalizes his disobedience saying he did defeat Amalek, but brought back some of their sheep and oxen for sacrifice. By the way, this passage is precisely what St. Thomas (and St. Gregory the Great) allude to in his teaching on obedience. The prophet Samuel, however, sees through Saul’s two-faced equivocation and replies: “Does the Lord so delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as in obedience to the command of the Lord? Obedience is better than sacrifice.” Why is obedience better than sacrifice? Well, because obedience slays our own wills whereas “in sacrifice another’s body is slain.” Obedience brings about self-mastery; and self-mastery leads to happiness. King Saul needed to go back to obedience school.

              Let me suggest three little exercises you can practice to develop the virtue of obedience, the muscle of self-mastery. First, be obedient to your parents. Do what they command you: take out the trash, do your homework, eat your vegetables, go to Mass, don’t stay out past midnight. Nothing good ever happens after midnight, with all due respect to Eric Clapton, who sang, “After midnight, we’re going to let it all hang out.” Second, be obedient to your spouse. And in the realm of spousal relationships, there should be a mutual subjection, a mutual obedience: sometimes the wife wins, and something the husband wins. That is, not all discussions should end with the man getting the final word, and those words being, “Yes dear.” Be obedient to each other out of love, be slaves to each other. And thirdly, be obedient to the Church. Sadly, we have lots of “cafeteria Catholics,” who are picking and choosing what they believe and how they behave (like Saul did). It’s increasingly hard to teach and train these millennials Catholics in the spiritual trade. Obedience is out and freedom, self-expression and creativity is in.

              But I believe the deeper danger lurking inside each of us is that while we feel free on the outside, we’re becoming slaves on the inside, slaves to our wills and our passions. We are experiencing the atrophy of the spiritual muscle of obedience and self-mastery. Maybe dogs are not the only ones who need to go to obedience school.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Beauty’s Balance

Learning to compliment beauty with the virtues

01/13/2018

1 SM 9:1-4, 17-19 There was a stalwart man from Benjamin named Kish, who was the son of Abiel, son of Zeror, son of Becorath, son of Aphiah, a Benjaminite. He had a son named Saul, who was a handsome young man. There was no other child of Israel more handsome than Saul; he stood head and shoulders above the people. Now the asses of Saul's father, Kish, had wandered off. Kish said to his son Saul, "Take one of the servants with you and go out and hunt for the asses." Accordingly they went through the hill country of Ephraim, and through the land of Shalishah. Not finding them there, they continued through the land of Shaalim without success. They also went through the land of Benjamin, but they failed to find the animals. When Samuel caught sight of Saul, the LORD assured him, "This is the man of whom I told you; he is to govern my people."

            Beautiful people wield a lot of power in the world. I’ve learned this more by observing others than by experiencing it myself. Beautiful women and handsome men possess a sort of hypnotic power over others, and we defer to them involuntarily and naturally. I remember an episode of the sitcom “Seinfeld” where Jerry and George are arguing over the merits of having a head full of hair. George, who is bald, asks, “So, what if men have hair? What’s the big deal?” To which, Jerry simply answers: “Men would rule the world.” There’s more truth to that statement than most of us would readily admit. In David McCullough’s biography of President John Adams, we see again the power of beauty. At the Continental Congress, Benjamin Franklin tells Adams the names of each member, and who has the qualities of a president. Adams immediately notices George Washington, and says, “He’s a natural born leader.”  Franklin sagely replies, “He’s always the tallest man in the room.  He’s bound to end up leading something.”  Don’t tell Napoleon that, who was known for this diminutive stature.

             That’s why beauty also needs a little balance, a sort of counter-point. Have you ever heard the old saying, “It’s the looks that gets them, but it’s the personality that keeps them”? Everyone is immediately attracted to the beautiful woman and the handsome man. But meaningful and enduring relationships require that beauty to be balanced with a personality that is kind and humble, wise and courageous. In other words, beauty alone is not enough “to rule the world.”

             This balancing act between beauty and personality is being portrayed in the book of Samuel. The people of Israel are clamoring for a king, a little like the American colonists were looking for a president. God instructs the prophet Samuel to anoint Saul. But do you recall Saul’s appearance? We read: “There was no other child of Israel more handsome than Saul; he stood head and shoulders above the people.” You might almost say that Saul had the hair of Seinfeld and the height of Washington. A good-looking guy like that was “bound to be leading something.” But sadly, Saul lacked the personality to back up the beauty. If you continue to read the rest of the story, Saul becomes terribly corrupt and God has to choose another king, the shepherd boy David, who is said to be “a man after God’s own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14). That is, David possessed both beauty as well as its balance, a personality that was virtuous. Beauty alone is not enough “to rule the world.”

            Take a moment to think of your personal experiences with beauty – your own beauty as well as that of others. Have you noticed how deferential we tend to be around beautiful people? I am convinced that beautiful women get out of more speeding tickets than even priests do. Our culture has grown so obsessed with beauty that we make huge sacrifices and pay large sums of money to look young and attractive, instead of humbly accepting the aging process, and growing old gracefully. The beauty business is a billion dollar industry for a good reason. Sometimes we’re so enamored by beautiful people, we almost become slaves to them, doing anything not to lose them. I just finished a short story by D. H. Lawrence called “The Fox.” A very independent woman named March falls head over heels in love with a dashing red-headed younger soldier (who both resembles and behaves very much like a fox). In one very telling line, we read: “When he thought of her dark, startled, vulnerable eyes, he smiled subtly to himself. He was older than her, really. He was master of her” (“The Fox,” 23). Do you know any spouses that sometimes feel more like slaves?

            In all these far too common experiences, we forget beauty’s balance. The need for a personality adorned with the virtues of patience, mercy, cheerfulness, self-control, and modesty. Beauty should be balanced with virtue, goodness, and holiness. Indeed, holiness is the best kind of beauty. It’s the looks that gets them but it’s the personality that keeps them. And therefore, beauty alone cannot rule the world.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

J’accuse

Hearing the words inviting us to repent of our sins

01/12/2018

Mark 2:1-12 When Jesus returned to Capernaum after some days, it became known that he was at home. Many gathered together so that there was no longer room for them, not even around the door, and he preached the word to them. They came bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men. Unable to get near Jesus because of the crowd, they opened up the roof above him. After they had broken through, they let down the mat on which the paralytic was lying. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to him, "Child, your sins are forgiven." Now some of the scribes were sitting there asking themselves, "Why does this man speak that way? He is blaspheming. Who but God alone can forgive sins?" Jesus immediately knew in his mind what they were thinking to themselves, so he said, "Why are you thinking such things in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Rise, pick up your mat and walk'? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins on earth" –he said to the paralytic, "I say to you, rise, pick up your mat, and go home." He rose, picked up his mat at once, and went away in the sight of everyone.

            In 1973 Dr. Karl Meninger, an eminent American psychiatrist, wrote a book about sin that opened with this stunning, almost scary, scene. We read: “On a sunny day in September, 1972, a stern-faced, plainly dressed man could be seen standing still on a street corner in the busy Chicago Loop. As pedestrians hurried by on their way to lunch or business, he would solemnly lift his right arm, and pointing to the person nearest him, intone loudly the single word, ‘GUILTY!’ Then, without any change of expression, he would resume his stiff stance for a few moments before repeating the gesture. Then, again, the inexorable raising of his arm, the pointing, and the solemn pronouncing of the one word, ‘GUILTY!’” Meninger continued, “The effect of this strange j’accuse (French for “I accuse”) pantomime on the passing strangers was extraordinary, almost eerie. They would stare at him, hesitate, look away, look at each other, and then at him again; then hurriedly continue on their ways. One man, turning to another whom was my informant, exclaimed, ‘But how did he know?’” (emphasis in original) (Whatever Became of Sin?, 1-2).

           I read that book while I was still in the seminary and it left a lasting impression on me; I felt like one of those passersby on the Chicago Loop, and I felt guilty. That was precisely Meninger’s intention and hope in writing that book: to awaken a sense of shame for our sins.  Meninger’s book was like that wordless man on on the street corner, uttering, “J’accuse” to its readers. Unfortunately, when there is no sense of shame, we can feel like there is no sin.

           In the gospel today, Jesus is also trying to awaken a sense of sin in people who are oblivious to it. The gospel pericope recounts the faith of four friends, who bravely lower their paralytic partner into a crowded room, in order to get Jesus’ attention and aid. But what does Jesus do before he heals the man? He stunningly says: “Child, your sins are forgiven.” Most of the time we hear that story, we forget about the sin and focus on the friends and the healing. That healing is important, too. But clearly, Jesus’ priority is pardoning sins. He’s almost like that sternly-faced pantomime on the Chicago Loop raising his arm and pronouncing, “Guilty!” As a matter of fact, if you read that gospel passage carefully, you’ll see that the miracle of healing was only proffered as proof of Jesus’ authority to forgive sins. It’s quite conceivable that if the scribes had not questioned Jesus’ ability and authority to forgive, Jesus may not have healed the man.  Again, don’t misunderstand, Jesus certainly wants to heal the body, but like Karl Meninger, his deeper desire is to heal the heart. Therefore, Jesus solicits a sense of shame for sin, so he can move people to healing and true wholeness.

          My friends, do we feel any sense of shame for sins, or have we absolved ourselves of guilt and responsibility for our misdeeds? The biggest excuse I hear for why people don’t go to confession is, “I can’t think of anything I’ve done wrong.” And people mean that sincerely because they’ve lost that sense of shame for sins. I always suggest to such people, “Well, let your wife come up with the list of sins you can bring to confession. Or, ask your children to write down your sins. And then you can return the favor for them.” In other words, while we conveniently overlook our own faults and failings, they are painfully obvious to others. It’s easier to say “J’accuse” to others than to ourselves. 

         Another way to revive our sense of shame is to listen to our conscience. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches: “Deep within his conscience man discovers a law which he has not laid upon himself, but which he must obey.” And later, “His conscience is man’s most secret core and his sanctuary. There he is alone with God whose voice echoes in his depths” (Catechism, 1776). That is, our conscience, if we listen to it attentively, also says to us, “J’accuse,” and awakens a sense of shame for sins.

           If we open our eyes and ears, like those people on that sunny day in September, 1972, we’ll see there is no shortage of pantomimes like that man on the Chicago Loop pointing at us and saying, “J’accuse.” But of course, shame and sin are not the last words for a Christian on his or her journey with Jesus. Nevertheless, they are necessary words on the path to peace, hope and happiness.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Water and Whiskey

Avoiding marrying a stranger while we’re on earth

01/11/2018

Mark 1:40-45 A leper came to him and kneeling down begged him and said, "If you wish, you can make me clean." Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand, touched the leper, and said to him, "I do will it. Be made clean." The leprosy left him immediately, and he was made clean. Then, warning him sternly, he dismissed him at once. Then he said to him, "See that you tell no one anything, but go, show yourself to the priest and offer for your cleansing what Moses prescribed; that will be proof for them." The man went away and began to publicize the whole matter. He spread the report abroad so that it was impossible for Jesus to enter a town openly. He remained outside in deserted places, and people kept coming to him from everywhere.

            I spend several hours every week preparing young couples for marriage. I can’t help but smile as I see how they talk and laugh and gaze at each other through rose-colored glasses. They walk into my office as if they were walking on the clouds, and they are preparing to marry an angel from heaven. Well, part of my job is to bring them back down to earth, and remind them, paraphrasing the country song by Frankie Ballard, “Every time you kiss me it [may not] be like sunshine and whiskey.”

            I use a phrase that sort of grabs their attention and helps them think a little more soberly about the reality of marriage. I suggest to them that “the worst thing that can happen to you on your wedding day is that you marry a stranger; that is, you marry someone you don’t really know very well.” That is, put down the whiskey and drink a little water. Now, my suggestion is not easy to put into practice because when we’re dating and courting someone we try to put our best foot forward; we try to look like the knight in shining armor. It requires, therefore, real humility, honesty and trust to remove the shining armor and let another person see our shortcomings and weaknesses. But on the other hand, how wonderful it would be to look at each other on your wedding day and say: “I know you’re not the knight in shining armor, but I still want to spend the rest of my life with you.” To win that kind of love, we risk rejection, it is hard-fought and it just takes time. In other words, it’s very hard to avoid marrying a stranger; you have to drink a lot more water than whiskey.

            In the gospel today, someone looks at Jesus through rose-colored glasses, and our Lord suggests he drink a little more water and a little less whiskey. Jesus cures a man of leprosy. But then Jesus surprisingly warns him: “See that you tell no one anything but go show yourself to the priest and offer for your cleansing what Moses prescribed; that will be proof for them.” Why did Jesus not want people to praise him for his powers of miraculous healing? Well, for the same reason I tell engaged couples be careful not to marry a stranger. In other words, Jesus true identity is not as a miracle-worker, but as the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53, who was destined to die an ignominious death on the Cross. As a matter of fact, Jesus’ shyness to strut his superpowers is a biblical motif called “the messianic secret,” especially showcased in the gospel of Mark. Why? Well, because while Jesus wanted people to love him, he didn’t want them to marry a stranger. More water and less whiskey.

             My friends, this lesson of love is not only useful for engaged couples preparing for marriage, but for all of us. Sometimes we think we know people, but we don’t. Each human being is a profound mystery, and never just what meets the eye. Therefore, be careful in categorizing people with labels, like “liberal” or “conservative,” “traditional” or “progressive.” No person created in the image of God is that simple or that shallow. This temptation is especially strong with our own family members. We think, “Well, I know him!” or “I know her!” and we level those comments at others with a critical eye. But we don’t know our family members fully and completely; indeed, we are often a mystery to ourselves. Even St. Paul struggled with self-understanding when he lamented: “What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate” (Romans 7:15).

             I believe it will only be after death, and God-willing when we’re finally in heaven, that we’ll know each other well, and know ourselves well. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches this was the case even with St. Peter’s understanding of Jesus. We read: “The true meaning of [Jesus’] kingship is revealed only when he is raised high on the cross.” And further, it adds: “Only after his resurrection will Peter be able to proclaim Jesus’ messianic kingship to the People of God” (Catechism, 440). In other words, maybe only in heaven will we no longer marry a stranger.

Praised be Jesus Christ!