Man of God

Praying for our priests and for ourselves

09/29/2019

1 Timothy 6:11-16 But you, man of God, pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. Compete well for the faith. Lay hold of eternal life, to which you were called when you made the noble confession in the presence of many witnesses. I charge you before God, who gives life to all things, and before Christ Jesus, who gave testimony under Pontius Pilate for the noble confession, to keep the commandment without stain or reproach until the appearance of our Lord Jesus Christ that the blessed and only ruler will make manifest at the proper time, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality, who dwells in unapproachable light, and whom no human being has seen or can see. To him be honor and eternal power. Amen.

On their way to get married, a young Catholic couple is involved in a fatal car accident. The couple find themselves sitting outside the Pearly Gates waiting on St. Peter to process them into Paradise. While waiting, they begin to wonder: Could we possibly get married in heaven? When St. Peter shows up, they asked him. St. Peter said: “I don’t know. This is the first time anyone has asked. Let me go and find out,” and he leaves. The couple sat and waited and waited. Two months passed and they were still waiting. While waiting, they began to wonder what would happen if things didn’t work out; could you get a divorce? After yet another month, St. Peter finally returned, looking somewhat bedraggled. “Yes” he informs the couple, “You can get married in heaven.” The couple replies: “Great! But we were just wondering, what if things don’t work out? Could we get a divorce in heaven?” St. Peter, red-faced in anger, slammed down his clipboard on the ground. The frightened couple asked: “What’s wrong?” St. Peter shouted: “Oh, come on! It took me three months to find a priest up here! Do you know how long it will take me to find a lawyer?” My apologies to any attorneys present at Mass today.

But if that joke suggests that priests are scarce in heaven, do you know where priests are apparently plentiful? According to the medieval poet Dante Alighieri, in his famous book The Divine Comedy, he puts not only priests but even popes in hell, and believe me, there’s nothing comic about that. These poor prelates include Pope Nicholas III, Pope Boniface VIII, and Pope Clement I, who all inhabit the second-to-last deepest circles of hell for sins of simony, selling spiritual goods. Dante’s poem is a grim reminder of Jesus’ words in Luke 12:48, “Much will be required of the person entrusted with much.” Personally, I never want to forget that admonition, so on my ordination card, I wrote this ancient quotation: “Great is this mystery, and great the dignity of priests, to whom that is given which is not granted to angels.” The older I get – and the more my daily sins pile up – the more convinced I am that quotation is not a cause for pride, but rather motive for the deepest humility. In the priesthood, perhaps like nowhere else, God’s mercy meets man’s mediocrity.

In the second reading today, St. Paul seems to have this priestly paradox in mind – where sin meets grace – when he writes his first letter to Timothy. He exhorts his priestly protégé, saying: “But you, man of God, pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. Compete well for the faith.” In other words, don’t you dare take for granted the great gift of the holy priesthood, which is not given even to the angels.

You may recall St. Timothy was one of Paul’s closest companions on his missionary journeys and he loved him like a son. In 1 Timothy 1:2, he writes: “To Timothy, my true son in the faith.” In the year 64, St. Paul left Timothy in Ephesus to govern the church as its bishop. Paul wanted Timothy to have Jesus’ words in Luke 12:48 burned into his memory. Or as the Jonas Brothers sing in their popular song, “Sucker,” Paul wanted Jesus to be the “tattoo inside his brain, the medicine and the pain,” which is a perfect description of how Paul and Timothy and all of us priests feel about Jesus: “I’m a sucker for you, Lord.” Bet you’ve never thought about that song in that light.

The U.S. Serra Club that promotes vocations to the priesthood annually sponsors Priesthood Sunday, which falls on this Sunday, September 29th. Some people even call it a “Second Fathers’ Day” besides the one in June. I really like that designation of being called “Father,” because we all have natural fathers whom we honor and love, but we know they are not perfect men. The same holds true for our spiritual fathers, our priests, who need our prayers, because they, too, are not perfect men.

But do you know who you really need to pray for besides priests? Please pray for the church staff that have to work with the priests on a daily basis. Why? Well, you get to see the priest at Mass, when we can slap a smile on our face and be charming and cheerful. “Oh, Fr. John is so wonderful,” you think. But the staff sees us when we are grumpy and grouchy on a bad hair-day, when we are picky and petty worried about the collection, when we are selfish and slothful and want to stay in bed instead of say Mass, when we are unkind and unkempt because we don’t have a wife to clean us up to out in public. In short, you see the “man of God,” but they see the man of mediocrity. You think all priests will go straight to heaven; they know all priests will be lucky to make it to purgatory.

On Priesthood Sunday, and really every day, pray for your priests because they need it. But in a sense, you need these prayers for priests even more. Why? Well, without priests, who will baptize your baby, and who will hear your confession, and who will marry your son or daughter, and who will feed you with the Bread of Life, and who will anoint you before you leave this world to meet your Maker? In other words, the People of God need these mere mortals because they have been granted that which is not given to the angels. In their hands is your salvation.

St. Augustine, the holy and humble bishop of Hippo, tried to balance these two sides of the sacred priesthood, saying: “Where I am terrified by what I am for you, I am given comfort by what I am with you. For you I am a bishop, with you…I am a Christian.” Please pray for us priests, these men of God, these men of mediocrity, these men with Jesus “tattooed inside our brains.” Pray for priests so it won’t be so hard for Peter to find one in heaven.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Preacher's Best Friend

Taking time daily to think about death

09/28/2019

Luke 9:43B-45 While they were all amazed at his every deed, Jesus said to his disciples, "Pay attention to what I am telling you. The Son of Man is to be handed over to men." But they did not understand this saying; its meaning was hidden from them so that they should not understand it, and they were afraid to ask him about this saying.

The last thing most people want to talk about or even think about is death, especially our own death. When was the last time you pondered, in some detail, your own death? If you’re like me and most of humanity, probably never. We love celebrating our birthday until they start telling us we will one day die, so we decide to be 39 for the rest of our lives, or like start shopping at the clothing store called “Forever 21.” Every commercial on TV, b

esides selling a certain product, has the underlying message that you can live forever and never face death. Shakespeare’s most famous soliloquy began with Hamlet asking the million-dollar question: “To be or not to be, that is the question…” And most Americans would answer that by saying: “I think I’ll ignore that question.” The few, rare occasions I have actually talked to someone about death, people usually say: “Well, I hope to die in my sleep and get it over with quickly and painlessly.”

But I would suggest to you that one of the most holy and healthy, one of the most sane and even sober, and even saintly, of things to think about is our own death. Oh, I don’t mean so that we become down and depressed, but rather so we will assess this earthly life in its proper perspective, not lie to ourselves, and look forward to the afterlife. I was talking with Fr. Martin last week about the challenge of preaching at Mass, and said: “Thank God for death! Death really gets people attention. It’s a preacher’s best friend, because without death, people would side-step and scoff at the gospel message.” In other words, nothing makes people more laser focused on eternal life than the harsh reality of death. Just think about the last funeral you went to. How did you feel touching the casket, or kissing the cold forehead of the deceased, or saying a prayer for their peaceful repose? That feeling is sanity and sanctity.

In the gospel today, Jesus is really struggling to convey the truth of his own saving death to his apostles. For the second time in the gospel of Luke, he announces that he will soon suffer death, and how do his closest companions react? We read: “But they did not understand this saying; its meaning was hidden from them so that they should not understand it, and they were afraid to ask him about this saying.” The apostles at that stage of their formation were like most of us and wished to die in their sleep, quietly and quickly and painlessly. Later, however, after witnessing Jesus’ death and resurrection, and being filled with the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, they meditated daily on death, and how their death could glorify God, just like Jesus’ own death did. After the resurrection, the apostles would scoff at commercials telling them they could live forever on earth and they looked forward to their birthday into heaven (their death), not their birthday on earth. The apostles would probably not have shopped for clothes at the store called “Forever 21.”

Today, I want to invite you to do something a little strange, namely, take time every day to think about death. You can think about Jesus’ death as you pray the fifth sorrowful mystery of the rosary, the Crucifixion. Or, you can ponder the death of a loved one by visiting a cemetery or our columbarium. On the way to school Mass every Friday, our school children stop by the columbarium to pray for those interred there. They are thinking about death. But the best thought and the most blessed thought is to turn your mind to your own death. How differently we would live, if our own death was our constant thought! That thought is sanity and sanctity.

I’m sorry this homily was not full of jokes and joviality. There is a time and a place for those as well. But I noticed you were paying very close attention to this homily today. Death is a preacher’s best friend. And in the end, death is a Christian’s best friend, too.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Suffering Servant

Honoring the memory and ministry of Padre Pio

09/23/2019

Matthew 16:24-27 Jesus said to his disciples, "Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life? Or what can one give in exchange for his life? For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father's glory, and then he will repay each one according to his conduct."

Suffering is unavoidable. Sometimes that suffering can be physical, but it can also be emotional or mental. It can be endured by individuals but also by groups of people, or a nation, like the suffering of slavery and abortion in our country. Parents suffer vicariously when they see their children suffer. The whole earth suffers when we fail to care for our “common home” as Pope Francis reminds us. I see the inevitability of suffering several times a week when I visit the hospital and give the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick.

Last week I was called to the hospital to anoint Mr. Tony Scherry, who passed a few hours later. I pray the sacrament brought Tony and his family some comfort and strength as they carried the cross of suffering. And finally, I am learning that I, too, will and must suffer at some point, especially for my own sins. The surprising thing is that I have been able to live a suffering-free life so far. I’ve gotten off easy thus far, but it will not last; suffering is unavoidable.

Now, here’s the subtle irony when we deal with Christian suffering. Our pains can help heal other people’s wounds. One of the most poignant prophesies in the Old Testament about the coming Messiah is found in Isaiah 53, which describes him as the “suffering servant.” We read in Isaiah 53:5, “But he was pierced for our sins, crushed for our iniquities. He bore the punishment that makes us whole, by his wounds we were healed.” The last line is the money line for me: “by his wounds we were healed.”

We see this interchange of suffering for healing in daily life. When we break one leg and put it in a cast, the other leg sort of suffers by carrying the weight of the whole body. By the anguish of the healthy leg, the wounded leg is healed. So, too, Jesus bore the pains of our sins so we could be healed. But this does not mean we will not suffer. On the contrary, our cross will be the surest sign of our Christianity, our badge of honor. That’s why the saints are always pictured with the instruments of their martyrdom, like a cross or sword. In other words, we, too, must become little “suffering servants” in imitation of our Lord and Master.

Today, September 23, is the feast of St. Padre Pio, a Capuchin Franciscan friar. In a very unique way he was a suffering servant like Jesus because he bore the “stigmata,” the wounds Jesus suffered on the Cross. Padre Pio was born on May 25, 1887 to a poor but very devout Catholic family in Pietrelcina, in southern Italy. His baptismal name was “Francesco” (Francis). Even as a young boy he suffered severe illnesses: gastroenteritis and typhoid fever. He entered the Capuchin Franciscans at age 15 and took the name “Pio” (Pius).

As he studied to be a priest, he had additional illnesses: insomnia, exhaustion, fainting spells, migraines, and he vomited frequently and could digest only milk and cheese. He served in the Italian army in World War I in the medical unit, and returned and started a hospital for those in extreme need, called “La Casa sollievo della suffrenza.” Padre Pio’s desire, however, was not only to alleviate the physical ailments of his patients, but especially their spiritual ones. He was a priest. He heard confessions, said Mass, anointed the sick, and served as spiritual director for countless people.

One day in 1947, a Polish priest named Fr. Karol Wojtyla came to Padre Pio for confession. In a moment of prophetic inspiration, Padre Pio said that one day that Polish priest would rise to the highest position in the Church. In 1978 that prophesy came true as that priest was elected as the pope and took the name John Paul II. And in order to say thanks, Pope John Paul II canonized Padre Pio in 2002.

But perhaps Padre Pio’s most notable trait was the stigmata, the same sufferings that Jesus endured. Padre Pio said he was embarrassed by the bleeding in his hands and in his feet and his side because he didn’t want to be compared to Jesus Christ. But he endured his sufferings for the sake of others, so that by his wounds others might be healed.

Suffering is unavoidable, but it can also be an instrument of healing for ourselves and for others. Scott Hahn said: “We usually pray ‘Deliver us from sufferings,’ but Jesus teaches us to pray ‘Deliver us from evil’.” Our greatest enemy is not suffering but evil, and surprisingly, suffering may be the best way to “deliver us from evil.”

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Picture God

Being moved by a God of love and mercy

09/22/2019

1 Timothy 2:1-8 Beloved: First of all, I ask that supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings be offered for everyone, for kings and for all in authority, that we may lead a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity. This is good and pleasing to God our savior, who wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth. For there is one God. There is also one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as ransom for all. This was the testimony at the proper time. For this I was appointed preacher and apostle — I am speaking the truth, I am not lying —, teacher of the Gentiles in faith and truth. It is my wish, then, that in every place the men should pray, lifting up holy hands, without anger or argument.

I heard this little joke at the Ladies Auxiliary meeting this past week, so before I tell it, would you please cover your children’s ears? A white man and an African-American man were best friends. They had been best friends for many years, and had shared a lot of their lives together, and basically agreed on everything. But there was one area where they adamantly disagreed, namely, on what color God was. The white man said he was sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that God was white. His African-American friend, however, was equally convinced that God would be African-American, that God is black. One day both men were driving along and had a terrible car accident where they both died. They found themselves standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the Pearly Gates, knowing that any moment the doors would fly open and their long-lasting debate would finally be resolved. At last the eternal gates opened, and God stepped forward, and said, “Buenos dias!” Maybe that joke would be better received in the Spanish Masses.

I share that joke because it suggests that how we see God – how we picture him in our mind’s eye – profoundly affects how we think, how we think shapes our choices, how we choose fashions our character, and our character steers the course of our life. In other words, how we visualize God – not just what color he is – changes not only how we think; it changes everything.

For example, if we tend to imagine God as a strict judge, who’s only looking to squash all our fun and trying to catch us making a mistake, we will be paranoid, and only try to avoid his punishments. We feel like the poor children of an abusive parent. Jonathan Edwards, the fiery Evangelical preacher in colonial Connecticut, wrote a famous sermon called, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.” He explained to his congregation: “There is nothing that keeps wicked men at any one moment out of hell, but the mere pleasure of God.” He literally wanted to scare the hell out of his parishioners. Jonathan Edwards pictured God as a judge and therefore preached a legalistic relationship with him, which deeply influenced the faith of his followers.

On the other hand, we can visualize the Almighty as a God of infinite mercy. Pope Francis, shortly after he was elected in March, 2013, led the world in praying the Angelus. He made a statement that day that has always stuck with me. He insisted: “The Lord never tires of forgiving us. It is we who tire of asking for forgiveness.” The difference between Pope Francis and Jonathan Edwards’ view of God could not be more black and white, more night and day. One relationship with God is based on fear and legalism, the other on faith and love. Our picture of God changes our thinking, and in the end, it changes everything.

Our scriptures today offer us two contrasting images of God and how that deeply affects behavior. Jesus tells a parable of a dishonest steward who fears his master and quickly comes up with a selfish solution to keep him from being fired, and even a back-up plan if he is fired. Moved by fear and legalism, he does the minimum for his master. On the other hand, St. Paul teaches Timothy God is merciful and only desires to save us. We read in 1 Timothy 2:4: “God wills all to be saved and to come to the knowledge of truth.” When we see God in that light – where God wants to save us rather than punish us – we feel like doing the maximum, motivated by his mercy.

Ask yourself today: How do I see God? Most of us are not worried whether God is black or white, but we do have some image of the Man Upstairs in heaven. Does that image make us live by fear and legalism or by faith and love? What do I mean? Do you tend to do the minimum as a Christian? We might ask how far can I go with my girlfriend before it’s a mortal sin: can we hold hands, can we kiss, can we French kiss, etc.? What’s the least I can give in the Sunday collection so I don’t feel guilty: is it $5, or $10, or $100? What it the least I have to do to stay out of hell, because that’s all I’m shooting for? These would be the kinds of questions that Jonathan Edwards’ congregation might ask.

Here at Immaculate Conception, though, I find people asking the opposite questions. For instance, some ask what times are the daily Masses because I want to go to Mass more than just Sundays? Or, I already give money in the Sunday collection, but how can I help the poor, or a family who cannot afford to send their child to Catholic schools? Others ask, what are the bible studies I can go to in order to learn more about this loving and merciful God? And every now-and-then, someone says, I want to give up everything and become a priest or nun, like Omar Galvan, from our parish, who will be ordained a priest in two years. No wonder it’s Omar, a Hispanic man, who wants to be a priest, since God is Hispanic and speaks Spanish: “Buenos dias!”

Folks, why do we do the things we do? Simple: when we look up to heaven and see a God of infinite mercy and love, and we realize how he sent his son to die and rise for us, and we believe he has given us all his heavenly riches in the sacraments, it feels like you can never do enough to say thanks. King David sang in Psalm 116 (my favorite), “How can I make a return to the Lord for all the good he has done for me? I will raise the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord.” How we picture God changes our thinking, our choices, our character and our lives. It changes everything.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Soul of a Nation

Saving the soul of a nation and a family

09/20/2019

Luke 8:1-3 Jesus journeyed from one town and village to another, preaching and proclaiming the good news of the Kingdom of God. Accompanying him were the Twelve and some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities, Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza, Susanna, and many others who provided for them out of their resources.

When I studied litera

ture at the University of Dallas, I discovered the notion of a “national epic.” Have you ever heard of a national epic? It is a story, usually a long poem, that captures the national character of a people and enshrines the conscience of a nation. It expresses who we are and what we stand for collectively. For instance, the national epic of Greece would the Iliad and Odyssey penned by Homer, their great poet. Italy’s national epic is clearly considered the Aeneid by Virgil. England usually claims Beowulf as theirs. Spain would hail El Cid as its national epic, and Australia has Gilgamesh.

What would be America’s national epic? The jury is still out but one of the finalists would have to be Moby Dick by Herman Melville. Another story that’s often in the running is the Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Pope St. John Paul II had the habit of reading the national epic of a country on the plane as he went to visit it. The pope-saint knew that he could not speak convincingly to a given country if he did not first learn who their heroes were, what their hopes as a people are, and what their highest aspirations were. In short, he wanted to shape their character and touch their conscience, both enshrined in their national epic.

But I would suggest to you that a country and a nation is more than a character and a conscience, it also has a spirit and a soul. In other words, every country also has a relationship with God. Have you ever thought about a country having a soul? Sounds kind of strange, doesn’t it? Last night I attended the Heart to Heart banquet, and the speaker declared that the prolife cause is a “battle for the soul of America.” Now, the purpose of a soul is to put you in a right relationship with God. But if you don’t believe in God – like the growing atheist population – then there’s no need for a soul. No God, no soul. And maybe that’s one reason prolifers and prochoicers cannot agree: one believes this country has a soul to save, and the other side doubts we do. Do nations have a spirit and a soul, as well as a character and a conscience?

Another habit of Pope Saint John Paul II was to travel to other countries and canonize the saints and martyrs who died there. Today, September 20, is the feast day of the Korean martyrs, Andrew Kim Taegon, Paul Chong Hasang, and their Companions. In his homily for the canonization of the Korean martyrs on May 6, 1984, the pope wrote movingly: “For behold: through this Liturgy of Canonization, the Blessed Korean Martyrs are inscribed in the list of the Saints of the Catholic Church.” He continued: “These are true sons and daughters of your nation…They are your ancestors, according to the flesh, language and culture.” And then he pointed out: “At the same time they are your fathers and mothers in the faith, a faith to which they bore witness by the shedding of their blood.” Did you notice how the pope was speaking not only to their culture but also to their Christianity? He wanted to touch not only their national character and conscience, but also their country’s spirit and soul. That’s why the pope flew to all seven continents and canonized countless saints and martyrs on the soil already consecrated by their blood. The saints of every nation and country remind us that every nation also has a soul to be saved.

When you tell stories about your family to your children and grandchildren, what do they sound like? You may talk about your family’s ethnic origins in Ireland or Italy or India. You may mention the heroes, like grandparents who made the trek across the Atlantic Ocean on a ship and sacrificed and saved to give their children a better life. You might highlight the first member of the family to go to college, or even include the first member of the family to go to jail. You may proudly say my grandfather fought in the Great War.

But do you make a point to include the spiritual history of your family: someone who became a priest or a nun, or helped build a church, convent or school? I remember asking my father many years ago, how long our family had been Catholic. He answered for 2,000 years, since the arrival of St. Thomas the Apostle to India. Do you know long your family has been Catholic? I bet it’s not for 2,000 years!

Families, like nations, also have a soul, a spiritual relationship with God. And the soul of your family, like the soul of this nation, is worth saving. That is, if you think it has a soul.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Holiness as Wholeness

Embracing everyone as the path to holiness

09/19/2019

Luke 7:36-50 A certain Pharisee invited Jesus to dine with him, and he entered the Pharisee's house and reclined at table. Now there was a sinful woman in the city who learned that he was at table in the house of the Pharisee. Bringing an alabaster flask of ointment, she stood behind him at his feet weeping and began to bathe his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and anointed them with the ointment. When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would know who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, that she is a sinner." Jesus said to him in reply, "Simon, I have something to say to you." "Tell me, teacher," he said. "Two people were in debt to a certain creditor; one owed five hundred days' wages and the other owed fifty. Since they were unable to repay the debt, he forgave it for both. Which of them will love him more?" Simon said in reply,

"The one, I suppose, whose larger debt was forgiven." He said to him, "You have judged rightly." Then he turned to the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? When I entered your house, you did not give me water for my feet, but she has bathed them with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but she has not ceased kissing my feet since the time I entered. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she anointed my feet with ointment. So I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; hence, she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little."

How would you define holiness, or who would you say is a holy person? Most of us would point to external appearances and visible actions and use those to measure holiness. People sometimes say to me: “Fr. John, you will go straight to heaven!” Man, I hope they are right. But how did they come to that conclusion? They see me at Mass, I am usually wearing my priestly collar, they watch me interact with people, they hear me speak at bible study. Based on those exterior criteria, they conclude that a priest must be holy. And those are certainly helpful hints of holiness, but they are not guarantee.

If there’s one thing the recent clergy sexual abuse crisis has proven, it is that putting on a Roman collar does not make a man immune to mortal sin. In a certain sense, the Roman collar makes him more a target of temptation for the Evil One. In a wary, you do more damage by killing a captain than by killing a private. In other words, holiness cannot be just skin deep; holiness must abide in the heart, and what abides in the heart is love.

In the gospel today, the question of what determines holiness is precisely what is at stake. The Pharisees contended that holiness consists of external purity and visible behavior, a lot like most of us would define it. In fact, the name “Pharisee” comes from the Hebrew word “perushim” which literally means “the separated ones.” Holiness, therefore, requires separation from those who are unholy, defiled or impure. To be holy is to quarantine yourself from the rest of the world which is diseased with the defilement of sin. We might compare holiness of the Pharisees to modern day zombie movies, where there are a few, healthy people trying never to touch all these zombies that are like walking dead. And that is precisely why the Pharisees reacted so strongly when Jesus touched the sinful woman in the gospel.

Our Lord, on the other hand, defines holiness not as separation, but as integration. Not as running away from the walking dead in loathing, but rather running toward them in love. Think of all the times Jesus reaches out his hand to touch people the Pharisees would consider unclean, and to be avoided. Jesus touched the dead son of the widow of Nain a little earlier in Luke 7:11-17; Jesus is touched by a woman who is hemorrhaging blood for 12 years in Mark 5; Jesus speaks to the Samaritan woman in John 4 and shocks his apostles; and today, Jesus is anointed and even kissed by a sinful woman in Luke 7:36-50.

Integration comes from the word “integral” which comes from “integer.” Do you remember what an integer is in math? Don’t worry, I had to look it up too. An integer is a whole number that can be written without a fractional component. The basic point is that a integer is whole, and to integrate is to make separated pieces whole again. That is Jesus’ definition of holiness: to reintegrate all the separated and scattered children of God back into God’s family, back into one Church, back home under one roof. In a word, holiness is wholeness, integration rather than separation. And the key to holiness as integration is love.

Now, let’s return to our initial question: how do you define holiness? Do we have the attitude that holiness is separation? So we may quarantine ourselves from people or places or situations we consider unclean or sinful. We look at people who are different from us like so many zombies, the walking dead. But one of the chief qualities of the saints is to run to those people and places and situations with great love. Mother Teresa ran to the slums of Calcutta, Blessed Stanley Rother faced his persecutors in Guatemala and was killed by them, St. Damien ran to live in a leper colony on the island of Molokai. The list goes on and on. Why do they do that? They believe holiness is basically integration. The saints use Jesus’ math, and their holiness tries to make the world whole again. They see the people who are different not as zombies but as separated brothers and sisters.

St. Thomas Aquinas taught that the chief effect of the Eucharist was the unity of the Body of Christ, the Church (ST, III, Q. 73, Art. 3). As we come forward to receive Holy Communion, let us ask for the grace to define holiness like Jesus does: holiness is wholeness.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

The Happiest People

Letting the Church lead us to happiness

09/18/2019

Luke 7:31-35 Jesus said to the crowds: "To what shall I compare the people of this generation? What are they like? They are like children who sit in the marketplace and call to one another, 'We played the flute for you, but you did not dance. We sang a dirge, but you did not weep.' For John the Baptist came neither eating food nor drinking wine, and you said, 'He is possessed by a demon.' The Son of Man came eating and drinking and you said, 'Look, he is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.' But wisdom is vindicated by all her children."

I like to say that Catholic schools help students to get to Harvard and also to Heaven. But I should add a third “H” besides Harvard and Heaven, and say: “Catholic schools also help students to be happy.” All activities of Catholic schools is aimed at the target of the happiness of their students. I know this will sound a little arrogant to say but the Church claims to have the corner on human happiness better than anyone else. Pope St. Paul VI coined this felicitous phrase: “the Church is an expert in humanity,” which is another way of saying the Church is an “expert in human happiness.” All humans desire happiness. Just look at all us priests and nuns, don’t we look like the happiest people on earth? Well, looks can be deceiving; we really are the happiest people on earth.

In the first reading, St. Peter – the first pope – said something similar to what the 262nd pope, St. Paul VI said: “The Church of the living God, the pillar and foundation of truth.” And what “truth” was Peter talking about? The truth we are all most interested in, namely, what makes people happy? In other words, the Church, the pillar and foundation of truth, knows better than anyone what makes you and me happy.

Now, the hard part about happiness is that the Church is not the only one who claims to have the corner on human happiness. Every commercial you see says the same thing: each one is selling happiness. Buy these 3-cigarettes because they will make you happy. You have to get this new phone because it will surely make your happy. You have to vacation at this beach or go to this amusement park, because only here will you be truly and fully happy. Behind every commercial is the hope of happiness.

And what the unspoken implication if you don’t buy these things? You will be unhappy. This is what Jesus means when he says the children of this generation are like children who play the flute and try to make people happy, and sing dirges and make people sad. The modern world, typified in modern commercials, claims to know what causes human happiness (and sadness). But John the Baptist and Jesus were not buying the happiness they were selling, and they were two of the happiest people on the earth.

Today I want you to think about two questions: (1) What will make you happy? And (2) who can tell you what will make you happy? At the end of the day, we all have a choice to make: do I believe the Church, established by Jesus as the pillar and foundation of truth, or do I believe the world, who play the flute and sing dirges, to lead me to happiness? Pope St. Paul VI said the Church is an expert in happiness. But every commercial claims the same corner on human happiness. You are free to choose to follow whomever you want to make you happy. Just remember one thing: looks can be deceiving.

Praised be Jesus Christ!