Last week I was going to share an article on ecumenism and the resentment some (many?) people have toward the Catholic Church’s traditional practice of “closed communion” (meaning the Church restricts licit reception of communion to only Catholics, and only those Catholics that are not conscious of any mortal sin on their soul). The comment I was typing to share the article was approaching the length of the article itself, and I deleted the whole thing and moved on, without sharing either comment or article (which is how I spend a lot of time on Facebook, to be honest).

It was the Plan, apparently, because this morning I was about to type a new post about happiness, and in my mind it immediately connected with that prior post I didn’t post.

What’s the connection? It’s about what we seek, and that much of what we seek is not what we should seek, but should be the fruit of what we should seek.

First, I’ll go back to that prior post about the Catholic Church’s teaching on closed communion. To begin with, we have to remember the early beginnings of the Church. There were the Apostles and close, faithful followers of Christ, who stayed with Him despite His difficult messages and despite the persecution and fear. They “were of one mind and one heart,” truly in communion with one another–and most importantly–with God through the grace of the sacrament of communion and the witness of how they lived their lives. There was truly an integrity and communion between their lives, their faith, their community, and their Lord. When there was a rupture in this communion, it was obviously a point of distress. It created a scandal (“stumbling block”), both within the community, and in the witness of the community to outsiders, to have such a rupture. St. Paul is very direct in addressing such a scandal:

It is actually reported that there is immorality among you, and of a kind that is not found even among pagans; for a man is living with his father’s wife. And you are arrogant! Ought you not rather to mourn? Let him who has done this be removed from among you.

And then came others who wanted to be part of this little community of “the Way.” Well, to do that, they needed a sponsor in good standing in the community to vouch for them, and to help them learn about how to live, what to believe, what communion is between the believer and the community and the believer and God (hence, sacramental sponsors have to be more than just “Catholic,” they have to live the faith with integrity). This became even more important when persecutions meant that infiltrators might betray the members of the group to the public authorities. And then splinter groups started forming who had theological opinions different than the sense of the faithful of the apostolically-formed communities (who, though they were geographically separate, were united in a single faith, as attested to, for example, by the writings of St. Irenaeus of Lyons). Of course, one of the key beliefs of the Church was the reality of Christ’s presence in the Eucharist. Although the formulation of just *how* Christ was present in the Eucharist wasn’t pursued as a question at the time, the belief that he *is* present was essential. Even St. Paul, writing to the Corinthians, made it clear:

For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, “This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of profaning the body and blood of the Lord. Let a man examine himself, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For any one who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment upon himself.

The Church through her holy Tradition maintains this early disposition about receiving communion: that only those in full communion of FAITH and WITNESS–of believing all that the Church teaches as true (especially about the Eucharist), and having nothing scandalous on their conscience that would separate them from the community–are admitted to the celebration of communion.

That’s the background for my point. As I often lament, “God has blessed me with many gifts, but being succinct is not one of them.”

I would propose (I think without much disagreement) that there is much more “unworthy” (or in technical terms, “illicit”) reception of the Eucharist in the Catholic Church than any previous time; “unworthy reception” meaning that communion is sought and received by those who are not in full communion with the Church, either by a break in faith, or a break in witness (mortal sin). And my point of all this is that this is why: the general pulling apart of the internal and external of everything.

The most commonly encountered example of this is our relativist modern society:
it doesn’t matter what you believe, as long as you’re a basically good person. (see: Moralistic Therapeutic Deism). Of course, what a “basically good person” is, we don’t completely agree on, but for the most part, it’s that you leave everyone else to believe and live however they wish, and keep what you believe to yourself. If what you believe infringes on anyone else believing and living however they wish, then there is a problem with what you believe. You can go to what church (or synagogue, or mosque, or temple, or whatever) you want, and have in your heart whatever you want, and whatever you believe ends with you. Outside you, it’s not your church or beliefs that matter, it’s social and government policy that matters. That’s how we all get along (unless your beliefs try to get out into society). On this topic I HIGHLY recommend Matthew Leonard’s podcast with Andrew West on “Church and State.” (You can ignore his over-hyped title, just listen to the interview).

So you would reasonably think that at least within the Church–within the Church building itself, within the liturgy itself–that this would be a “safe space” where the Catholic Church has the authority to say to her own children (and guests): this is the truth of what we believe, and this is what we should do with it. That at least here in church, among our own people, we would honor the Church’s own teaching, that if you are not in full communion with the Church (community) in what the Church believes and teaches, and/or if you are not in full communion with the Church (community) because of mortal sin, do not approach to receive and celebrate the sacrament of communion (because you are not *in* communion).

Instead of people taking the integrity of inward reality and outward sign (that is at the heart of what a sacrament is) and bringing an increase of integrity to their life, they bring the dis-integrity of the separation of inward and outward, from life in our society, and apply it to receiving communion. What do I mean? I mean that we bring into our liturgical celebration the worldly mentality that our interior life is irrelevant to our exterior life. As long as we are a “basically good person,” we’re good enough (to be allowed to do what we want, including receiving communion); and that whatever interferes with that (especially if it makes us feel bad) is bad.

But here’s where it ties into the beginning, on the potential post on happiness. Why do people *want* to receive communion? Because it feels awkward and vulnerable (and judged) to *not* receive communion. What will people think of me? (“me” should be a rare thought during the liturgy anyway.) It just makes everything more difficult with people having to pass by me in these narrow pews, and my reason for not receiving communion is not that bad anyway. I’ll just go. (Noooo!)

My Spanish teacher told me it was quite a culture shock when he went to church in the US, compared to Mexico. In Mexico, most people do not receive communion, because they know they shouldn’t. Unfortunately, there is no burning desire for communion that drives them to repent of their sins and come into communion with the Church. In the US most people receive communion, worthy or not. This teacher said when his mother first went to church in the US, she was amazed at how holy everyone must be to all be receiving communion. He had to give her the bad news. Maybe it’s because in Mexico, there’s a strong cultural aspect of Catholic guilt, and in the US, there’s an even stronger cultural aspect of self-esteem (if you want it, go get it).

So we want the outward appearance, the fruit, of communion (approaching and receiving the sacrament of communion), without the inward reality of in fact being in communion. The outward appearance of the Church is as a hierarchical social organization of people who come together to hear bible readings and share in the distribution of bread and wine. But the inward reality of the Church is the Body (and Bride) of Christ; an organic whole, of which all the baptized are sacramental body parts, each with a divinely-appointed and provided-for role in the life of the Body. And the appearance of bread and wine are in (sacramental) reality the nourishing and healing of the spiritual life we received at baptism–He whose life we have received and live nourishes us repeatedly with his Body and Blood to become ever more (because we live in material and passing time, we need continually renewed and returned to the source) in communion with Him and with the other members of His mystical body, as an organic communion of a whole, of which He is the Head. (In the Catholic faith, it’s SO MUCH MORE than just a symbol! But if you’ve detached yourself from the communion of the Body, by a break of faith or a break of witness, it’s a fatal break, as you’ve detached yourself from HIM who is the source of life!)

We go after the shiny wrapper and throw away the valuable contents. We want the wrong thing. Our want is too superficial, and God calls us to the deep reality of which we only want the outward sign. We shouldn’t want just the sacrament of communion (although it is itself no small thing: it is the source and summit of the Christian life); we should want *communion itself*, profound unity in self-giving (kenotic) love with our community (the Church in this world, and in purgatory, and in heaven, all members of one Body!) and with our Lord, and even within ourselves: intra-personal and interpersonal divine peace, which we can only truly have through the divine gift of the sacramental grace and living according to (and outward from) that grace.

And therein lies the rub.

We want to receive communion, and we want it on our terms, defiant that it has its own nature which does not submit to our terms. We want to receive communion and ignore the invitation to the deeper reality that the outward fruit of communion truly means and relies on.

We want happiness, and we want it on our terms, defiant that it (and the human person) has its own nature which does not submit to our terms. Happiness is actually the fruit of holiness, which is a participation in the divine life. When we experience friendship, love, joy, pleasure, peace, comfort, in any measure, we seek these as happiness; and they are: they are “passing participations” in what God is. But happiness is not the goal: holiness is the goal, an *abiding* and profound (and ultimately, eternal) participation in the divine, the “happiness of the saints.” These things make us happy because they are what we are made for. But when we seek happiness itself, we miss, or worse: we seek happiness in anti-divine ways that ultimately bring us (and often others with us, since we are all connected) profound unhappiness. At worst, our grasping at some improper way of pursuing happiness costs us (and perhaps others) the eternal happiness for which we were made. But if we seek holiness, we get happiness thrown in, because happiness is the fruit of holiness.

Ultimately, we as human beings are called to participate in God’s divine life. He didn’t make us because he needed worshipers for his frail ego. He didn’t make us to spend eternity in this passing world. He didn’t make us to lose ourselves by merging into Him. He made us to be in enduring, intimate (“nuptial”) relationship with Him, as He is in Himself: to be drawn in, through His Son, into the very exchange of divine love that is the Holy Spirit: the Spirit of Truth, the Spirit of Unity, the Spirit of Divine Love. The Holy Spirit is a Person of the Trinitarian God, and we are called into the fullness of that Spirit. That fullness is the fullness of happiness, the fullness of love, the fullness of communion, the fullness of friendship, joy, pleasure, peace, comfort (and all the rest) which truly satisfies the longing of the human heart, because it was for this that we were made: perfect communion, perfect happiness–the image and likeness of God.

Let us not prefer the wrappers to the reality. Let us not prefer the illusion (or lie, or redefinition) of communion for the authentic reality of divine communion. Let us not prefer the appearance of goodness for the authentic reality of divine goodness. Let us not prefer the consequence of happiness for the cause, which is the authentic reality of divine holiness. We want the wrong thing, and we were made for more. “Be holy, for the Lord your God is holy.” And you will be happy.

What are we as Christians to do in the face of the problems of our society? That’s a burning question most of us have, or should have. How does God want us to respond to the rising frequency of difficulties for us to live as faithful Christians?

We already have the answer, we’ve known it in the past, and we’ve applied it in the past, and it’s always time to apply it again.

When the Israelites were conquered by the Babylonians and deported in the Exile, they spent a lot of time reflecting on why God allowed that to happen—how God, who promised always to be faithful, and always be with his people, could allow his people to be led away captive to a foreign land, far from God’s presence in his Holy Temple, in his Holy city of Jerusalem, which was left abandoned and burned.

The conclusion they came to was that they, not God, had been unfaithful. They may have been God’s chosen people, but they were not living by the precepts that set them apart, they who had enjoyed the unique favor of being given, by God himself, the law of how to live. They had become corrupt, they had gotten too involved in international affairs, and had neglected the precepts of purity and worship that God required of them. So while they were in Exile, they added to their sacred writings to make clear that God’s blessings were contingent on their faithful response, and that righteousness and purity needed to be kept at the center of their cultural identity. It so happened that as they did this, the Babylonians were conquered by the Persians, and the Israelites were permitted to return to their land—an event that the Israelites had no doubt was by the hand of God, particularly in response to their having learned their lesson.

Our first reading, from near the end of the book of Isaiah, looks lovingly toward the restoration of Jerusalem, the mother of the people of God, the daughter of Zion. The reading recounts the blessings that God will shower upon Jerusalem, and the people, and inspires them to prepare themselves for the journey home, and once again to feel the comfort of their mother’s embrace.

The Church is the new Jerusalem, the place where God came to be with his people. The titles applied to Jerusalem–“Mother of the people of God”, “Daughter of Zion”–are also titles for Mary, the Blessed Mother of Jesus, and so by adoption, mother of all who are brothers and sisters of Jesus, his body, the Church. On feast days honoring the Blessed Mother, we often have readings that praise the holy city Jerusalem.

They probably also should have noticed that central in God’s instructions were not just requirements for purity, but also for protection for the widows, the orphans, and the poor, who are close to God’s heart. Perhaps then they wouldn’t have had the terrible friction between the two at the time of Jesus: the pharisaic legalism focused on purity, but neglecting their duty of charity and generosity toward the vulnerable and suffering.

The Islamic world figured it out, too. Discontent with the mediocrity of cultural Islam, fundamentalists looked back at their history to see what was different about the golden ages when Islam was a powerful force in the world. And they, too, saw that it was radical fidelity to the principles of Islam. A fundamentalist and literal application of the ancient texts of Islam takes as given the notions of war and fighting as a political and cultural clash between those who are faithfully living Islam by this strict, fundamentalist interpretation, and everyone else. That is the difference between Islam and Muslims, and Islamism and Islamists, who corrupt the teachings of Islam to spout anti-Western condemnation and strap bombs to themselves in the name of Islam and God.

For more information, read this.

It’s tempting to buy into some of the sweeping-generalizations that Muslims, in general, are a threat, but we must also keep in mind that it is a misrepresentative group of Muslims who espouse this aggressive interpretation. The majority of Muslims do not. And just as there are Christians who are wrong people who do wrong things, we must treat Muslims as we want to be treated: to be judged on our own merit, our kindness, our charity, and our faithfulness, and not those who misrepresent our faith with violence and hatred.

That isn’t to say that even moderate Islam is not without some genuine concerns in terms of its relationship with Christianity and Western culture; and also how “anti-Western” non-Islamist Muslims might be. But we can respond to this with fear, or with dialogue and interaction. Those who are here legally have as much right to be here and celebrate their faith, and enjoy their legal protections and rights (and obligations) as any of us. We would be charitable to give the benefit of the doubt to particular Muslims and their communities, and show them gracious hospitality. In the words of Lincoln, “Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?”

And so how do we respond to the challenges of the world? By being radically Christian. I don’t mean Christian radicals or Christian fundamentalists–those who take some aspect of Christian teaching, and then violently and hatefully spreading that bit of the message apart from the whole (such as the KKK, Westboro Baptist Church, or those who violently attack mosques, synagogues, abortion clinics, or do any violence in the name of any Christian belief). Not radical Christian, but radically Christian. Blessed Mother Theresa, St. Gianna Beretta Molla, Dorothy Day, Pope Saint John Paul II, were radically Christian. How so? By living by the message and life of Christ: to live by the cross, as a living sacrifice; taking up our cross daily, denying ourselves, and following him; by a simple life of prayer and service in love of God and all his children.

Our second reading is the end of St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians. St. Paul proclaims his abandonment of himself and all things for the way of the cross. He says, “May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” Is that difficult? It’s darn near impossible, but for the grace of God. He gives us this grace through our relationship with him—the most important relationship in your whole life. We strengthen that relationship by our worthy reception of the sacraments, by time spent in learning the Word of God, and by practicing the virtues and the works of mercy.

Jesus said to them, “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” We often use these words of Jesus to promote vocations to the priesthood. It is right and just, for we do need to encourage that, especially in a culture which so pervasively promotes the opposite (namely, self-centeredness and sexual indulgence). But in itself, the reading is not a call for more priests, it is a call for radically engaged Christians. Those who love Christ—such that their love overflows into sharing the treasure they have found with all they meet, with generosity and love. And that doesn’t just mean evangelizing to non-Christians or even non-Catholics. We are also engaged in what the Church calls “The New Evangelization,” which is to replant the seed of the love of Christ and his Church in areas and people who already received the Gospel, but where it has not (or has stopped) bearing fruit.

So what are we as Christians to do in the face of the problems of our society?

1. We are to live the gospel—which is to live and love the cross, which is to embrace the persecution we encounter, and return a blessing; to pray for our enemies. It is to live the teachings of the Church, and oppose secular errors such as abortion, artificial contraception, artificial conception, non-marital sex, pornography, euthanasia, and same-sex marriage.
2. We are to share the gospel, to spread far and wide—starting with those closest to us—the closeness and mercy of God as he has drawn near to us, and the divine truth of human nature, that supports why so much of what is being promoted by society is contrary to healthy human fulfillment.
3. We are to love the gospel. We are to put God first in our lives, and all other priorities in terms of our worship of him, and our love of him. Which includes our active participation in the Mass and the sacraments, arriving early and staying until the end of Mass, every Sunday and Holy Day of Obligation, being dressed modestly and nicely, and refraining from receiving the Eucharist in a state of mortal sin. It means taking unpopular stances, saying unpopular things, in love, because they are right. It means prudently choosing what battles to fight and how; to avoid formal cooperation in sinful behavior; and providing faithful Catholic formation for our children.

If we want to make America great, then we do so by being great American citizens, and we do that by being faithful Catholic citizens: hard-working patriotic servants, by being God’s good servants first. We remain faithful to the law of God, and then to the extent possible, to the law of the land. We stand up for the poor and vulnerable, and for truth and virtue. We pray for our families, our neighbors and our leaders.

Through the intercession and protection of the Immaculate Conception, the patron saint of our country, may we be, and always remain, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty, and justice, for all.

Our readings for this weekend have the clear and common theme of being firmly committed to God, and prioritizing the other aspects of our life in proper respect to this first priority.

Our readings for this weekend:

• 1 Kgs 19:16b, 19-21 – Elijah appoints Elisha as his successor
• Ps 16:1-2, 5, 7-8, 9-10, 11 – You are my inheritance, O Lord.
• Gal 5:1, 13-18 – For freedom Christ set us free
• Lk 9:51-62 – “…the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.”

In our first reading, we see Elijah following God’s instructions to anoint Elisha as his successor as the chosen and anointed prophet of God. We can glean some important things about Elisha’s life from this reading: He was handling a team of twelve yoke of oxen. So this was no small guy. He was big and strong. And we see that he fed “his people”, those depending on him, and so he was a man who was a provider to others in and near his home. But in his action, we see what’s most important: he slaughters the twelve yoke of oxen, and uses the yoke to fuel the fire of a great meal for his people. He essentially burned the bridge behind him to his previous life as he went to follow Elijah.

Throughout the Old Testament books of First and Second Kings, we see the story of these two prophets, Elijah, and Elisha, the embodiment of God’s promise through Moses that God will continue to be with and guide his people. And it is through these two great prophets that we see a kind of parallel to St. John the Baptist and Jesus, whose narratives are interwoven in the beginning of the Gospel according to St. Luke. Elijah was a prophet of warning, of vengeance, of calling down thunder and lightning. Elisha was a prophet of mercy, of healing, of resurrection and restoration, and forgiveness. Although the contrast is not exact, for we heard a few weeks ago of Elijah restoring the son of the widow of Zarephath, and we know that Jesus at times played the part of giving stern warnings and displaying divine anger.

Indeed, in today’s Gospel, which can be divided into two parts, in the first part, we have Jesus showing a gentle response to being rejected by the Samaritans, while his disciples James and John earn their nickname, “the Sons of Thunder” for wanting to punish the Samaritans for their faithlessness.

Then in the second part of the Gospel, which shows three potential disciples, Jesus is stern with them, demonstrating that once a person makes a commitment to be Christian, nothing must get in the way, nothing must take a higher priority, and nothing must be chosen which is inconsistent with that primary priority. It’s not going to be easy, Jesus tells us. We’re not going to have some of the comforts that others enjoy. But what are those comforts worth, compared with eternity in the highest ranks of heaven? St. Francis de Sales teaches us that it is not enough to simply avoid sin, but we must let go even of our affection for sin. We can’t want what is sinful, even if it were permitted. We must purify our desires, our hearts, if we want to see God.

One of the stories I read recently is about a guard in charge of a lighthouse along a dangerous coast who was given enough oil for one month and told to keep the light burning every night. One day a woman asked for some oil so that her children could stay warm. Then a farmer came because his son needed oil for a lamp so he could study. Another needed some for an engine. The guard saw each as a worthy request and gave some oil to satisfy all. By the end of the month, the tank in the lighthouse was dry. That night the beacon was dark and a ship crashed on the rocks. More than one hundred lives were lost. The lighthouse guard explained what he had done and why. But the prosecutor replied, “You were given only one and very important task: to keep the light burning. Every other thing was secondary. Deviation from your responsibility has caused loss of many lives and much property. You have no excuse.”

Temptation is not necessarily a choice between good and evil. Perhaps more confusing and tempting is the conflict when one must choose between something good and a greater good. The lighthouse keeper in our story found himself in such a conflict situation. And that is what happened to the would-be disciples in today’s Gospel story. In such cases the good becomes the enemy of the best. One must say NO to a good thing in order to say YES to the one thing necessary.

Discipline is choosing between what you want now and what you want most.

Pope Benedict is often quoted as saying, “The world promises you comfort. But you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness.” That’s the choice between saying “no” to the good of comfort, to be able to say “yes” to the greater good of greatness. Another great quote, by Augusta Kantra, is “Discipline is choosing between what you want now and what you want most.” It’s the same principle: saying “no” to what you want now (like a big juicy steak and baked potato) so that you can say “yes” to what you want most (lowering your blood pressure and cholesterol so you can lose weight and live healthier).

If it’s true about your physical life, in this case, it’s more true for your spiritual life. We are called to make sacrifices (fasting, praying, almsgiving). We are called to do things (help the poor and vulnerable, go to Mass weekly and Confession regularly, follow the moral law). We are called to avoid things (practice chastity, refrain from gossip, don’t be judgmental). Sure, some of these are for everybody, but some of them are especially directed at Christians. Our lives should not be lived the same way as others, because we are pursuing different goals. And if the ends are different, so should the path be different. We are not seeking popularity, wealth, power, or pleasure. We are seeking holiness, humility, mercy, faith, hope, and charity. We’re seeking heaven, and the steep, narrow road to get there. And to make that journey, we have to let go of a lot of unnecessary baggage.

We have to ditch what we want now, for what we want most. We have to keep our hand to the plow, and not look back.

With the recent move from St. Joseph Church in Lancaster, and maintaining their webpage and Facebook posts, to Holy Trinity Church in Columbia, with dedicated volunteers generously sharing their own talents and gifts for the glory of God and the online presence of the parish, I’ve decided that perhaps it’s time to resurrect the old blog that was attempted many moons ago, and never quite got off the ground. Plus, WordPress has improved dramatically since then.

It’s going to stay simple for a while, only presenting what I had been posting as my weekend homilies, with some minor alterations, and some other commentary of events as they might prompt a blog post. Obviously, I’ve got a steep learning curve ahead in my “day job” and I play with the internet as a diversion. But I have some thoughts percolating about how this site might develop. We’ll see.

But I thank  you in advance for your support and encouragement, your friendship, and of course, your dialogue and ideas. Stay tuned, and God bless you.

Fr.SK