The Like Button

Seeking praise only from the Heavenly Father

03/31/2022

Jn 5:31-47 Jesus said to the Jews: “If I testify on my own behalf, my testimony is not true. But there is another who testifies on my behalf, and I know that the testimony he gives on my behalf is true. Moreover, the Father who sent me has testified on my behalf. But you have never heard his voice nor seen his form, and you do not have his word remaining in you, because you do not believe in the one whom he has sent. I do not accept human praise; moreover, I know that you do not have the love of God in you. I came in the name of my Father, but you do not accept me; yet if another comes in his own name, you will accept him. How can you believe, when you accept praise from one another and do not seek the praise that comes from the only God?

Do you know what the “like button” is on Facebook and other social media? It is a way to show your approval or support for someone’s post, say a picture or a homily! You click on a little icon of a “thumbs up” and show that you like that particular post. I hate to admit this but I am probably as addicted as anyone else to the like button. How so? Well, after I post one of my homilies on Facebook, I love to see how many “likes” I get for it. And then, what is even worse, I look to see how many “likes” other priests get when they post their homilies on Facebook. Why did they get more “likes” than me??

In 2009 a person actually lost their job for clicking on the like button. Did you hear about this? Sheriff B. J. Roberts of Hampton, Virginia fired his deputy sheriff Daniel Carter Jr. for clicking “like” on a post by Jim Adams who was also running for sheriff that year. What a great idea! I think I will fire any church employees who “likes” a homily posted by other priests. A federal judge ruled that the deputy sheriff had a constitutional right of freedom of speech to like something or someone on Facebook. But you can see how deep into our hearts the simple click of a like button can reach.

In the gospel today Jesus teaches that he does not live by the like button. He declares: “I do not accept human praise.” That single line is worth our meditation for the rest of our lives. Instead of human praise, Jesus’ only desire is to be liked and loved by his heavenly Father. The only Person Jesus wants to see click “like” on what he says and does is God the Father. By contrast, he explains that the people of his generation desperately seek human approval and adulation.

And the people of Jesus’ generation, in this respect, are very similar to the people of our own generation (indeed like every generation): we live by the like button. As a result, when Jesus did not click the like button on their behavior – like when he excoriates the scribes and Pharisees in Matthew 23 – like the offended Sheriff, they “fire” Jesus. That is, they have him crucified. Even while hanging dying on the Cross, Jesus did not hold people’s likes or dislikes against them, saying: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do” (Lk 23:34).

My friends, how much do you live by the like button? Oh, I do not simply mean on social media but in every day life? You may not have tried to fire an employee because they clicked “like” on a post by a rival. But we very easily hold hurts in our hearts. We fail to forgive other people who do not “like” what we do or what we say. In other words, we very much “accept human praise,” which is exactly what Jesus did not do.

Instead of seeking human praise, therefore, try to live in a way that God the Father would like. That is, there is only one click of the like button a Christian should care about, and that is when God clicks like on our post, that is, on our life. And if you want to see striking examples of such people, just read the lives of the saints: St. Teresa of Calcutta, Pope St. John Paul II, St. Oscar Romero, the archbishop of El Salvador, who was murdered while celebrating Mass in a Carmelite convent.

The saints did not care if people pushed the like button on their behavior, and quite often, people pushed a dislike button on their behavior by persecuting and killing them. But the saints only wanted “one like,” just like Jesus did. And that is the only "like" any Christian should care about too: to please our heavenly Father, even if the rest of the world should try to fire us.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

 

More Mouthwash

Overcoming the fallacy of self-exception

03/22/2022

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

I studied philosophy at the University of Dallas, and I must confess, I loved every minute of it. Most students, however, especially seminarians studying to become priests, detested philosophy. One of the hardest courses I took was called “Logic,” and its difficulty may say more about me than about the course: it uncovered my own lack of logic.

One logical fallacy we learned, and I think I’m still trying to learn it, was called “the fallacy of self-exception.” Have you ever heard of that fallacy? It means basically that when we are arguing some point, we leave ourselves out of the consideration. We make an "exception" for ourselves. Self-exception is a failure in logic. Let me give you some examples.

C. S. Lewis once talked about “halitosis,” or bad breath. He said that everyone instantly notices when someone else has bad breath. But no one notices when they have halitosis themselves. Everyone believes their breath smells like spring roses. That is the fallacy of self-exception.

We sometimes have crying babies in church, and that really annoys some people at Mass. But not the priest, of course, we love crying babies, especially when they start howling during the homily. Now the interesting thing is when we bring our own baby (or grandbaby) to Mass and it begins to cry, we think it sounds cute and we think everyone else thinks so too. That is the fallacy of self-exception. The rule applies to everyone but not to me.

Jesus tells a parable today that is essentially another example of the fallacy of self-exception. One servant is indebted to a master and he is forgive a large loan. But he himself has a fellow servant indebted to him whom he refuses to forgive a much smaller loan. Notice how this unforgiving servant believes very strongly in the rule that debts should be paid. However, he happily accepts it when an exception is made for him, which he refuses to accord to another.

Perhaps he should have studied philosophy at the University of Dallas, and he might have seen how he was guilty of the fallacy of self-exception. In other words, the grace of mercy that was given to him should have eagerly been shared with all. The logical fallacy of self-exception is stinking thinking that we should be easily and quickly forgiven, but not others. My breath smells like spring flowers, and my baby’s crying sounds like Beethoven’s 9th symphony.

My friends, I am convinced that this logical fallacy lies behind every complaint we hurl at others. We see this perennially in politics. When the party in power nominates a Supreme Court Justice, the other party uses every trick in the book to stop them. The party in power complains: “That’s not fair!” But when the shoe is on the other foot, and the opposing party holds the reins of power, they turn around and use every trick in the book to torpedo the other party’s nominee. That is the fallacy of self-exception at work.

When we are young we complain about the mistakes and mannerisms of the elderly. But we will commit the same errors when we are old ourselves. The elderly complain about the young but that is because they have forgotten they made the same (or worse) mistakes in their youth. There again is the fallacy of self-exception. This generalization applies to others, but not to me.

It took me many years to realize how we priests are guilty of self-exception as everyone else. It never fails but when a priest is assigned to a new parish he thinks that he arrives on the first day like the knight in shining armor, riding in on his white stallion. He says valiantly: “Good townspeople, fear not, I am here to clean up this terrible mess left by the last pastor!”

But then it hit me one day: there is another priest who is riding into the parish were I was last serving as the pastor and saying the same thing: “Good thing I am here to clean up the mess that old Fr. John Antony left behind!” That is the fallacy of self-exception, and I am as guilty as the next guy.

The next time you are tempted to open your mouth to complain about others or point fingers at another’s mistakes and misdemeanors, remember the easily forgotten fallacy of self-exception, and maybe use little more mouthwash.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

 

Just the Chauffer

Appreciating the unknown prophets in our midst

03/21/2022

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

People do not always recognize the prophets in their midst. It is like the professor who traveled around the country giving lectures with the same chauffer. The chauffer always sat in the audience during the lecture. One day the chauffer said to him: “I think I have heard that lecture of yours a thousand time. And I could give it just as well as you do.” The professor said, “All right, you give the lecture tonight and I will sit in the audience in your chauffer’s uniform.” The chauffer gave a perfect lecture.

But at the end, a hand went up in the back. Someone asked: “There is a question that I should like to ask you. When you mix that H2SO4 with that NCL02, and compare it to the photographic plates of the sun, how do you get the equation e equals m over c squared?” The chauffer answered: “That is the most stupid question I have ever heard in my life. And to show you how stupid it is, I am going to let my chauffer answer it.” So, too, there are prophets sitting in our midst whom we dismiss as just the chauffer, but they are much wiser than we suppose. Indeed, they are the ones who can really answer our hardest questions.

This is the same oversight that Jesus is complaining about in the gospel today. He refers to two of the greatest prophets in the Old Testament, Elijah and Elisha, and argues that they were essentially like that chauffer in the audience. That is, the people ignored him. That is why the prophets ended up helping foreign people, like the widow of Zeraphath and Naaman the Syrian. Jesus sums up his teaching saying: “No prophet is accepted in his own native place.” Jesus real point is that this is how the people would treat him, as “just the chauffer.” But sometimes it is the chauffer – the unknown prophet – who alone has the answers to our hardest questions.

By the way, this is the main reason that priests are almost never assigned to the parish they grew up in as a child. Why not? Well, the people have known him as a boy and a teenager, and maybe even seen the trouble he caused in his youth. It is hard for them to “switch gears” and now see him as a prophet. For example, I have never been assigned to St. Theresa’s Church or Good Counsel parish in Little Rock, where I grew up. If I were to go there, they would scoff: “Ah, he’s just the chauffer.” Interestingly, I was the chauffer for the pastor, Fr. Warren Harvey. But sometimes the chauffer turns out to be the unknown prophet in our midst.

My friends, we all have hard questions to ask, and often we turn to professors instead of turning to prophets. It is not always people with Ph.D.’s who know best, but rather people illuminated by the Holy Spirit. And that is one of the critical roles of the pope and bishops. They are anointed at their episcopal ordination with the triple munera, the three-fold office, of priest, prophet and king.

But I am convinced that it is their prophetic role that causes us the greatest heartburn, but can also be the cause of the greatest holiness. Why? Because the job of a prophet is to call us out when we go astray, and we don’t like that. Both Pope Francis and Bishop Taylor have been excellent prophets. How do I know that? Because I don’t always like what they have to say. And what I do not like to hear is exactly what I most need to hear.

And just like Elijah and Elisha, and Jesus, so too, Pope Francis and Bishop Taylor are sometimes dismissed as “just the chauffer.” But often it is the chauffer, the unknown prophet, who alone has the answers to life’s hardest questions.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Name that Child

Learning how our names carry the faith

03/20/2022

Ex 3:1-8, 13-15 Leading the flock across the desert, he came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There an angel of the LORD appeared to Moses in fire flaming out of a bush. As he looked on, he was surprised to see that the bush, though on fire, was not consumed. So Moses decided, “I must go over to look at this remarkable sight, and see why the bush is not burned.” But the LORD said, “I have witnessed the affliction of my people in Egypt. Therefore I have come down lead them out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey.” Moses said to God, “But when I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ if they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what am I to tell them?” God replied, “I am who am.” Then he added, “This is what you shall tell the Israelites: I AM sent me to you.” God spoke further to Moses, “Thus shall you say to the Israelites: The LORD, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, has sent me to you. “This is my name forever; thus am I to be remembered through all generations.”

Choosing a child’s name is a very important responsibility for parents. But some parents pick the craziest names for their children lately. Have you noticed this? Here are a few of the funnier names I’ve heard. Some parents name their children “Starlette,” or “Snowdrop,” or “Pluto” (the Disney Dog), or “Alchemy,” what they called chemistry during the Middle Ages. A friend told me that the musician David Bowie and his ex-wife Mary Barnette named their son, “Zowie.” So, his name would be “Zowie Bowie.” But Zowie later changed his name to “Duncan.” Parents may think these names are cute, but their kids don’t.

Now I cannot really complain because we Indians have some funny names, too. For instance, those who come from my home state of Kerala often have a last name that sounds like a first name, for example, “John Antony.” When I introduce myself as “Fr. John Antony,” people ask: “And what is your last name?” I answer, “Antony.” And they say, “Yeah, I heard that, but what is your last name?” I reply, “I just told you, Antony.” They respond: “Yes, great name, but what’s your last name?” It’s like that Abbott and Costello baseball skit “Who’s on first?” I want to yell: “Antony is on first!”

But the real reason names are crucial is because they convey not only the love of our mother and father, but also their faith. Think about it: parents want to give their children the best that they have: the best food, the best clothing, the best home, the best friends, the best education, and so forth. But there is nothing more precious you can pass along to your progeny than your faith. Why? Well, because eventually everything else you give them fails and fades into nothing, but not the faith. Faith lasts forever.

A name, therefore, is a one-word summary of all the best things that parents want to give their children. When we give a child a name it should also include our faith. The reason my last name “Antony” is because it is actually my father’s first name. That is the way names work in Kerala, India. But I inherited not only my father’s name, but also his faith, which he taught me as a child. In carrying my father’s name, I also carry my father’s faith. The Catholic faith is the greatest gift my parents have given me.

In the first reading today, Moses meets God in the Sinai desert. Notice how God reveals his name to Moses, but it is not a normal name. God says: “This is what you shall tell the Israelites: I AM [Who Am] sent me to you.” Theologians and philosophers up and down the centuries have understood that mysterious moniker to mean that God towers above and beyond all names. He cannot be named like we name our children and our pets.

God did not remain entirely anonymous, however. He added very importantly: “Thus you shall say to the Israelites: The Lord, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob has sent me to you.” In other words, even though you may not know my name, Moses, remember your ancient fathers’ names, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And just as they walked by faith in me in the book of Genesis, so you will walk by faith in me throughout the book of Exodus. In a spiritual sense, because you carry your fathers’ names, so too, you carry your fathers’ faith. The best thing your fathers gave you, therefore, is not the Promised Land, flowing with milk and honey, but rather, their faith that will last a long longer than that land.

Another aspect of the Exodus story with relevance for us today is the fact that Moses is wandering in the desert when he comes upon God’s presence. You remember how Moses had fled from Pharaoh in fear, and now he finds himself a long way from home. In a sense, he has forgotten who he is, and his own Hebrew heritage, and especially his fathers' names, as well as their faith. After all, he is working for Jethro, a priest of Midian, a pagan priest.

Moses is spiritually lost, wandering like a tumbleweed rolling across the desert cut off from his roots and his religion. So, too, many young Catholics today find themselves in a spiritual desert, alienated from their roots and their religion. They have stopped going to Mass. They have forgotten their childhood faith that their mothers and fathers taught them. But can we blame them when we give them names like “Sassafras” and “Stardust”?

The good news, however, is that God finds us even in the desert of our lives. He is the burning bush that is constantly on fire but never extinguished. Like with Moses, he catches our curiosity, ignites our interests, and sets our faith on fire again. How so? Young Catholics in the desert encounter that burning bush when they meet a true Christian who loves and lives his or her faith. They meet the burning bush in the excitement of their own children getting ready for their first Holy Communion. They find the burning bush in their hearts in the silence, stillness and solitude of private prayer.

Even after their mother and father pass away, like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob had died 430 years before Moses (Ex 12:40), their faith will light up the darkness like the miraculous bush on fire but never extinguished. Think about the name you give your child. It should contain a clue to the faith they inherited from you, like the last name they inherited from you conveys a clue to your own Catholic faith. That faith will sustain them long after everything else you give them (including yourselves) is but dust and ashes.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Boil the Hell Out

Learning how holy things are for the holy

03/18/2022

Jn 15:1-8 Jesus said to his disciples: "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. He takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit, and everyone that does he prunes so that it bears more fruit. You are already pruned because of the word that I spoke to you. Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing. Anyone who does not remain in me will be thrown out like a branch and wither; people will gather them and throw them into a fire and they will be burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you. By this is my Father glorified, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples."

Do you know how to make a Christian? It is the same way you make holy water. Well, how do you make holy water? You boil the hell out of it. And there is a close connection between holy water and a new Christian because we use holy water to baptize and create a new Christian, a child of God. In other words, first you boil the hell out of the water so you can use it later to get the hell (original and actual sin) out of the newly minted Christian, who is pure gold, or better, pure grace, a saint. There is no hell in a new Christian.

In the Catholic Church there are two ways to create a Christian: the baptism of infants or babies, and the baptism of adults. Even though the baptism of babies is more common today – how you and I probably became Christians – the more ancient practice was the baptism of adults, after a long period of intense study and preparation called the “catechumenate.” Some of the most famous Catholics were actually converts to the faith. For example, Saul the Pharisee who became Paul the Apostle and was baptized in Acts 9. St. Augustine, one of the greatest doctors of the Church, was baptized around 386, when he was 33 years old. St. John Henry Newman, who was already baptized as an Anglican, but became Catholic in 1845.

More recently, Scott Hahn, became Catholic after leaving Presbyterianism, in 1986. And I personally love the story of the deathbed conversion of Judge Isaac Parker. As he lay dying, he called out to his Irish Catholic wife, Mary O’Toole, gasping, “Mary, call the priest!” Fr. Lawrence Smyth, pastor of Immaculate Conception, and my predecessor as pastor, took holy water and boiled the hell out of Isaac Parker by baptizing him. In other words, first we get the hell out of the water so that later we can get the hell out of the people by baptism.

March 18 is the annual feast of St. Cyril of Jerusalem, who lived in the 4th century. St. Cyril is the one who really put the catechumenate on the Catholic map with a series of sermons called “The Jerusalem Catecheses.” Cyril preached a total of 23 sermons (or lectures) to prepare adults for baptism and to create new Christians. St. Cyril did what our own St. Peggy Brandebura does today in the RCIA classes here at I.C. St. Cyril’s first 18 catecheses came before baptism, and the remaining 5 lectures came after the baptism. Similarly, the modern RCIA classes have lectures both before and after baptism.

Another interesting commonality between the ancient catechumenate of St. Cyril and the modern RCIA of St. Peggy is the "Mass of the Catechumens." Have you ever heard of that? The Mass of the Catechumens was the first half of the Eucharist, or the Liturgy of the Word, where we hear the Scriptures proclaimed and the sermon preached. But then the catechumens, the unbaptized, were dismissed.

As they were leaving the minister would solemnly declare: “Holy things for the holy.” In other words, only a Christian could stay for the Liturgy of the Eucharist (the second-half of the Mass) because he or she had been baptized. That is, holy water had made them holy, sort of boiled the hell out of them. Holy things for the holy: the Eucharist – the most holy Thing in heaven or on earth – was reserved only for those who are holy, who have had the hell boiled out of them by baptism.

My friends, as we go through Lent and approach the Easter sacraments, especially baptism, please pray for our RCIA candidates and catechumens. They follow in a long line of courageous Catholic converts: St. Paul, St. Augustine, St. John Newman, Scott Hahn, and Judge Isaac Parker. Pray God give them the grace to persevere through the catechetical lectures of St. Peggy and finally have the hell boiled out of them by baptism this Easter.

Then, they will understand intimately what Jesus meant when he said: “I am the vine you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing.” Then, they, too, will be able to say with confidence and conviction: “Holy things for the holy.”

Praised be Jesus Christ!

 

Tuesdays with Jesus

Seeing how death teaches us about life

03/16/2022

Mt 20:17-28 As Jesus was going up to Jerusalem, he took the Twelve disciples aside by themselves, and said to them on the way, “Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death, and hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and scourged and crucified, and he will be raised on the third day.” Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee approached Jesus with her sons and did him homage, wishing to ask him for something. He said to her, “What do you wish?” She answered him, “Command that these two sons of mine sit, one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom.”

Many years ago I read a very moving book called “Tuesdays with Morrie.” Have you heard of it or read it? It was about the author, Mitch Albom, who returns to visit his college sociology professor after he learns that he is dying from ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease. His professor’s name is Morrie Schwartz, and Mitch spends fourteen consecutive Tuesdays walking with him and watching him die. The book chronicles the last lessons that Morrie taught Mitch as his professor, not only about sociology but also about spirituality, about what ultimately matters most.

Here are two memorable quotations that jumped out at me. On one Tuesday, Morrie said: “Everyone knows they are going to die, but no one believes it.” In other words, we all seem to waltz through most of life under the illusion of immortality. That is why a sudden terminal illness or even the deaths of civilians in Ukraine surprise and shock us. We all know we are going to die, but it feels really hard to believe it will happen to me, until death is suddenly thrust upon us by cancer or combat.

The second quotation was from the same Tuesday. Morrie taught: “Most of us walk around as if we’re sleep walking. We really don’t experience the world fully, because we’re half asleep, doing the things we automatically think we have to do.” Mitch asked: “And facing death changes that?” Morrie answered wisely: “Oh, yes. When you realize you’re going to die, you see everything much differently.” He concluded: “Learn how to die, and you learn how to live.” By the way, that is why the best contributors to the church are always the elderly. They are facing death, so they know what really matters: give to the church!

In the gospel today, Jesus teaches his own “Tuesdays with Morrie” lessons. How so? Well, he wants to emphasize how he will face his own death on the Cross in Jerusalem, like how Morrie faced ALS. But Jesus also hopes that will help the apostles learn how to live better too, that is, in sharing the Good News of Jesus’ resurrection, like Mitch shared the good news of all the lessons he learned from Morrie through his best-selling book. The apostles wrote a best-selling book, too, called The Bible!

Sadly, though, we see the apostles are walking around half-sleeping. They are worried about who will sit in places of honor in the kingdom. Jesus’ point in the gospel today was essentially the same as Morrie’s, namely, “learn how to die…and you will learn how to live.” It was Jesus own suffering and death that gave meaning to his whole life. And that would be the same for the apostles: death would teach them the meaning of life.

Folks, we are only two weeks into Lent. If you are still looking for something spiritual to do, may I suggest some reading material? If you have not read "Tuesdays with Morrie", I highly recommend that book. Here are two other books you could read for the rest of Lent. I have just started reading a novel called “Jayber Crow” by Wendell Berry.

It’s about the life of a barber in a small town next to a river, so it has some similarities to Fort Smith, winding next to the Arkansas River. The protagonist, Jayber, recalls: “Back there at the beginning, as I see now, my life was all time and almost no memory. Through I knew early of death, it still seemed to be something that happened to other people.” Then he adds: “And now, nearing the end, I see that my life is almost entirely memory and very little time. Toward the end of my life at Squires Landing, I began to understand that whenever death happened it happened to me.” In other words, it was when Jayber Crow, the barber, learned about death that he began to learn about life.

The second book for spiritual reading this Lent is one we’re all familiar with, namely, “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens. We have had so much snow lately, it still feels like Christmas in March, so this book seems apropos. You remember old Ebenezer Scrooge is visited by three ghosts, the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future. But which ghost literally scares the hell out of Scrooge? The future ghost. How did he do it? He transports Ebenezer to his lonely grave, where no one comes to mourn his loss. Staring at his own grave, Scrooge suddenly learns the meaning of life.

And that is the final lesson of Lent: “learning how to die…we learn how to live.”

Praised be Jesus Christ!

You Know Who

Not mentioning our enemies by name

03/14/2022

Lk 6:36-38 Jesus said to his disciples: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. “Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven. Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap. For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.”

Pope Francis, like all respectable religious leaders, continued to condemn the invasion in Ukraine during his Sunday blessing yesterday. I read an article in “The Guardian”, though, that made this curious observation. It said: “The pope has not used the word ‘Russia’ in his condemnation of the war since Vladimir Putin ordered the invasion on February 24.” The article continued: “However, his choice of words, such as ‘armed aggression,’ and ‘no valid strategic reason,’ appeared to be aimed at contesting Moscow’s justifications for the invasion.” In other words, in a small but very noticeable way, the pope was practicing Jesus’ teaching to hate the sin but love the sinner by not mentioning names.

That genuine gesture of love by the pope reminded me of Archbishop Sartain’s gentle correction when I wrote my first book of homilies. He wrote the “Foreword” to the book, but first he read the whole book. He made a friendly suggestion in one homily where I mentioned a bishop in Germany who had a reputation for luxurious living. In my homily I had mentioned the bishop by name, but Archbishop Sartain recommended I might consider omitting using him as an example because I really did not know the circumstances of the bishop’s life and ministry.

He was right. I had hated the sin, but I had failed to love the sinner. In other words, when we mention someone by name while criticizing them, we equate the sin with the sinner, and we condemn both. It might seem like a small thing to do not, to mention someone's name, but it is really a very hard thing to do: to hate the sin but love the sinner, especially today while we watch the war in Ukraine.

In the gospel today, Jesus urges his disciples to exercise not only love but mercy. He teaches in Luke’s “Sermon on the Plain” (his counterpart to Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount), Jesus saying: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” I think Pope Francis and Archbishop Sartain were putting that teaching into practice by refraining from referring to people by name. But Jesus goes a step further in the last line of the gospel, where he adds: “For the measure with which you measure will in return out measured back to you.”

In other words, how would you like people to speak about your name, especially in public? We all naturally want everyone to use our name with respect and honor. Don’t drag my good name through the mud. And if they are going to criticize something we did wrong, they should understand and sympathize with all the extenuating circumstances that made us do it. Put simply, when someone utters our name, we hope they will love the sinner even while they hate the sin. Sometimes the best way to strike that delicate balance is not to mention someone by name, and focus only on their actions, which is what the pope did.

I am convinced that a person’s name touches somehow the mysterious depths of a person, and they are depths we will never fully understand. Thus we read in Jer. 17:9 (one of my favorite passages): “More torturous than anything is the human heart, beyond remedy; who can understand it?” The Jews acknowledged the hidden depths of God’s plans and purposes, the desires of his heart, when they refused to pronounce is divine name, “Yahweh.” It was the four-letter word, YHWH, the tetragrammaton. Instead, they represented it in writing with simple the four letters YHWH, and in speaking they substituted the word “Adonai” which means “Lord.” That is, do not pronounce the name of God because you really do not understand God.

Here is a rather mundane example from the popular novels called “Harry Potter.” Do you remember the person whose name was so powerful and awe-inspiring that no one ever uttered it? Rather, they whispered fearfully, “You Know Who,” or they said with dread: “He Who Must Not Be Named.” Even with a villain as wicked and cruel as Voldemort, his name was shown respect and deference. Even with him maybe J. K. Rowling was suggesting, like Pope Francis and Archbishop Sartain, we should show mercy, and love the sinner and hate the sin.

We love it when people remember our name. We pray that they will respect our name, even when we do sinful things. And we pray they will love us (the sinner) while they hate our sins. And we should extend the same courtesy to others. Why? “For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.”

Praised be Jesus Christ!