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About Fr. Steve Kelley

...is a happy Catholic Priest, ordained 2013 for the Diocese of Harrisburg. He is currently assigned as the pastor of Holy Trinity Parish in Columbia, PA. He started this blog to provide personal opinions, speculative theology, and commentary on various theological and social issues. "I ask that if you find anything edifying, anything consoling, anything well presented, that you give all praise, all glory and all honor to the Blessed Son of God Jesus Christ. If on the other hand, you find anything that is ill composed, uninteresting or not to well explained, you impute and attribute it to my weakness, blindness, and lack of skill." - St. Anthony of Padua

Homily: Teach Us How to Pray

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C
Genesis 18:20-32
Psalm 138:1-2, 2-3, 6-7, 7-8
Colossians 2:12-14
Luke 11:1-13


Saint Theresa of Avila said that you pay God a big compliment when you ask big things of him. Saint Augustine said that God sometimes delays answering our prayers because he wants to give us more than we prayed for, and our hearts aren’t big enough to receive what he wants to give us; so our waiting and longing grows our heart to be large enough to receive the abundance of God’s response to our prayer.

If we ask God for something in prayer, there are three possibilities: No, Yes, and Not yet. And unlike asking the sun, or the moon, or a shooting star, when we ask God, his answer to our prayers—even if his answer is not what we hoped for—we have faith and trust is what is best for us, his answer out of his perfect love for us. The sin of the garden of Eden was humanity’s failure to trust God. And our prayer in the Holy Spirit is the healing of that wound: we offer our prayers in trust in God’s love for us. That’s the last part of our gospel reading: being able to trust God that he’s going to give us the good that we need, the best things, and of course, the best thing is the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Our readings are on the theme of persisting in prayer. I remember someone saying, “Every time a woman prays in the bible, God answers that prayer.” Maybe it’s that men ask God for something in prayer, they wait a bit, and then if they don’t get a response, they shrug it off and move on. But women in prayer are more persistent. And that persistence is the key.

Our gospel reading has a bunch of different parts. One is a parable on being persistent. The man in the parable, like Martha last week, wants to show the virtue of hospitality. But he has an unexpected guest show up in the middle of the night, and this poor man has to go to his neighbor’s house, pound on the door, and ask for bread to give to his guest. And the neighbor’s like, “Are you out of your mind? Go away, it’s midnight, we’re in bed, and I’m not getting up to give you bread.” And the man keeps pounding at the door. I think it’s Father Mike Schmitz who defined persistence as “the shameless refusal to quit.” The shameless refusal to quit. That’s what we need to bring to prayer. I’m going to keep persistently pursuing the Lord and asking for what I need and trusting in him. And if he doesn’t seem to be answering, then I’m going to allow my trust and my desire to grow as I shamelessly refuse to quit until he responds. Of course, it’s not that we have to keep pounding at the door to change God’s mind, like in the parable. It’s that we have to persist because we need to grow in our desire to receive from the Lord.

The beginning of our gospel reading is the shorter version of the Lord’s Prayer found in the Gospel of Luke. The disciples of Jesus see him deep in prayer, and when he’s finished, they ask him to teach them, to give them his deep, beautiful relationship of prayer with the Father. One thing we can learn from the difference between Matthew’s version and Luke’s version is that our prayer should not be just the same formula of words.

Some people just rattle off the same prayers, day after day. Remember that prayer is our relationship with God, like a relationship with our spouse, or other loved one. We don’t say the exact same words, as fast as we can, and end the conversation. Our words should be organic, natural, flowing expressively; we  mean, from the heart, the words we say to our beloved God. Even if we’re persisting in the same prayers, even if we’re reading a given prayer, like the rosary, mean every word, every time. It’s a conversation, an invitation to a deeper relationship. I’ll often slow down people in confession: We just had this deep, beautiful, authentic conversation, and then they race through the Act of Contrition. And I’ll stop them. No, start again, slower, and mean from your heart what you’re saying.

The same is true in the Mass. The words of the Mass are important. They come down to us through Sacred Tradition as the participation of the people of God in the authentic worship of the Church. They’re meaningful, and they’re important. We should think about them and take them seriously. And they help us to shape our own prayer life according to the spirit of the Church.

For those of you who are musicians, you’ll appreciate this. When I was teaching ensemble music, especially marching band or horn lines for drum corps, I would tell them, there’s a difference between practice and rehearsal. Practice is your own work: to learn the parts, learning the notes, the articulations, the timing, dynamics, and getting past the mechanics into actually being musical. Then rehearsal is when we come together to unite our individual parts into the offering of the whole group, unifying all of our individual work. And also, what we learn in rehearsal then helps us when we go back home to practice better.

The same is true with prayer. People often say, “I pray to God all day long.” That’s good, depending on the prayer. If you’re just giving God your wish list, giving him his instructions for the day, maybe that’s not such a healthy prayer life. Just like if your relationship with your spouse was just the list of chores to do, and nothing else to your relationship. Not a healthy marriage. Have deep conversations; listen as well as talking; give and receive.

God isn’t a wish granter. He’s a loving father who loves you and wants a meaningful relationship with you. Sometimes as Catholics we can bristle at the phrase, “a personal relationship with God.” It sounds un-Catholic to some. But it is absolutely the heart of Catholic life. God is not just personal, but a communion of persons, and prayer is for us to get personal with God. We have that access through the gift of the Holy Spirit. Get comfortable with the idea of the truly personal essence of prayer.

Look at the dialogue between Abraham and God in our first reading. What courage Abraham has to dare to haggle with God to save Sodom, principally on Abraham’s part to save his relative Lot and his family. Abraham repeatedly shows his humility and his awareness of the audacity of his requests. And God accepts and responds to his requests. It’s a personal conversation. Of course, God does destroy Sodom, after warning Lot and his family to flee. But the point is Abraham’s persistence in prayer, and his personal relationship with God that allowed that closeness (and courage) in conversation.

So nourishing that beautiful life of prayer, then bring the grace of your relationship with God and unite that to the prayer of the communion of the church. Each person’s personal prayer fuels our communal prayer, and our communal prayer shapes our personal prayer. We need both parts, the parts we do on our own, and then bringing that personal energy into the power of the church’s prayers of the Mass. In the Mass, we’re not a passive audience to an entertaining performance; we’re active participants in the Church’s liturgical worship of God.

For example, when the archangel Gabriel greets the virgin Mary, some artwork portrays Gabriel, this great angelic presence, as bowing low to this innocent teenage girl, and Gabriel addresses her with reverence, a reversal of roles from what we would expect, as Gabriel waits for Mary’s humble “Fiat,” her consent, her “May what you have said be true,” to the message of the angel. Do we pray the “Hail Mary” with that kind of authentic reverence and awe, like Gabriel did. Or like Elizabeth, filled with Holy Spirit, announcing, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” Another example: Pope Saint John Paul the II in his reflection, “On the Church of the Eucharist” says that when the faithful receive communion, “there is a profound analogy between the ‘Fiat’ which Mary said in reply to the angel, and the ‘Amen’ which every believer says when receiving the body of the Lord.” Do we rush through and mumble our “Amen,” like saying “thank you” at the convenience store when we’re being given a receipt? Or do we reverently consider the gravity of that moment of encounter and gift? How much holiness can we inject into our response to the minister who holds up the sacred host and says to us, “The Body of Christ” and awaits the word of our response? Our “fiat”; our “Amen.”

How much can we consider the important words of the creed we proclaim, for which people at various times suffered and gave their lives to define and defend, in preserving the one / holy / catholic / and apostolic / church? Do we bow our heads, as the Church instructs us, as we say the words announcing our faith in the incarnation, that God himself “by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary, and became man.”? Do we sing what we are called upon to sing? Do we say what we’re called upon to say? All of which the Church requires of us to help us strengthen and shape our Christian spiritual life rightly—our life as disciples of Christ, and through him, children of God, living out our faith, persevering in prayer, trusting that God will abundantly and lovingly give us the good things that we need.

Homily: Martha and Mary

The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.” There’s a good reason that the first commandment in the Old Testament, “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. You shall not have other gods beside me,” sounds quite a bit like the first and greatest commandment in the New Testament, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind.” It’s because God, in the fullness of his divine Word, given to us for our salvation, wants to make sure that the main thing is that we keep the main thing the main thing. Or, “Put first things first.” Because that not only makes sure you take care of the first things, but also because it helps you view all the other things in light of the main thing.

Martha, Martha. Poor Martha. She gets such a bad rap from this gospel reading. She’s doing God’s work. The good and charitable work of hospitality. The Letter to the Hebrews says, “Do not neglect hospitality, for through it some have unknowingly entertained angels.” That seems to be a New Testament reference to our First Reading from the Old Testament. The reading starts out, “The LORD appeared to Abraham by the terebinth of Mamre, as he sat in the entrance of his tent, while the day was growing hot. Looking up, Abraham saw three men standing nearby.”

Now, strangely for the Old Testament, long before any revelation of the Holy Trinity, the reading gives us right up front who we’re talking about. “The Lord appeared,” and “Abraham saw three men standing.” In the Hebrew, it’s kind of peculiar, because Abraham inconsistently switches back and forth between singular and plural, like he’s not sure if he’s talking to one person or more than one. Maybe you have seen the beautiful 15th century icon, by Andrei Rublev called, “The Hospitality of Abraham” (sometimes just called “Rublev’s Trinity”). It shows three almost identical (with a few meaningful differences) figures sitting at a table, affirming the Christian belief that this Old Testament reading is giving a hint at the Holy Trinity. And I think this is quite fitting for the Church to have paired this with our gospel reading, in which Martha and Mary are definitely offering hospitality for a divine visit, with Jesus, Emmanuel, in their home. So, Martha is clearly doing something good and holy in offering hospitality to Jesus and his disciples. That’s not the trouble. Jesus doesn’t say anything like “don’t offer hospitality.” What does he say, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things.” That’s where the trouble is.

What did Martha say first, to elicit this response from Jesus? She said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving? Tell her to help me.” Wow. Martha is… direct. Lord, do you not care? We can feel that way a lot of times. I’m suffering over here, there’s this injustice, don’t you care? Even in church, we can sometimes feel this way. Some kind of appreciation for my work, my visiting the sick, my stacking the chairs, my organizing this or that ministry, this or that committee, my this or that. “My God why have you abandoned me?” I’m left by myself to do the serving. All the cleaning up, the cooking, the drinks, the dishes… Meanwhile, Mary over there is just relaxing. Sure, I’d like to just sit and listen, too, but this meat and cheese tray ain’t gonna serve itself. You know what, Lord. That person over there enjoying themselves: You need to tell her to help me.

And that’s when Jesus… he doesn’t chastise her, doesn’t scold her… he frees her. He gives her a gentle, loving, knowing smile. I do see you, Martha. You are anxious and worried about many things. Important things, urgent things, things that have to get done. Getting the kids to soccer practice, working extra hours to pay the bills, sleeping in after getting home late last night. Getting ready for the things you have to do later. I see you. But you’re not making the main thing the main thing. Let go of those burdens for a while, and come sit with me. Listen to me. Just be with me. I’m here to spend time with you. Because I love you. Waste time with me, and just sit here and receive from me. That’s the cure to being anxious and worried about many things. That’s the cure to the poison of resentment to being busy, especially, in the church, when it becomes a burden instead of a gift of love.

Recharge your heart and soul by plugging them back into the Sacred Heart. “Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto Thine.” So Jesus here, he’s not condemning hospitality. He’s not saying don’t serve. He’s saying service is good, but intimacy with Christ is the better part. Service is good, but intimacy with Christ needs to come first. And that’s the fuel, and the right perspective, for everything else. We end up skipping church or prayer because we’re too busy, we don’t have time. And then we get upset that we feel that we’re just spinning our wheels, and we’re always busy and tired.

 And on the other side, we can fall into a kind of entitlement mentality. Why am I not being recognized? Why am I not getting the good things? I’ve been doing everything right. I’ve been praying. I’ve been being faithful. Why would God let this bad thing happen to me? Show me where in the Bible where Jesus said that bad things wouldn’t happen, that by being a good person we won’t suffer. He even warns them in the Last Supper about all these terrible things that are going to happen. And then he says, I tell you all this now, so you will know that I know you are suffering, and I am with you always. In this world, you will have trouble, but take courage, I have overcome the world. You will not overcome it. But if you have me, I will provide a way. I am the way. And that’s our bridge into our last section here, the second reading.

I remember a lecture by Dr. Scott Hahn in which he said that Colossians 1:24 was one of the key verses of his Catholic conversion. “I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ.” We know that the afflictions of Christ are perfectly sufficient for our salvation. So what could Paul mean by this? Dr. Hahn said he looked up dozens of different commentaries and explanations and ended up dividing them into three piles. Ones which just ignored the difficulty, ones which gave a rather unsatisfactory explanation, and ones which gave a pretty convincing explanation. And he noticed that the third category was all from Catholic sources. To sum up, it is what we call, “redemptive suffering.” It’s behind what a Catholic means when we say, “Offer it up.” It means that we unite our sufferings into the suffering of Christ, and he draws us more deeply into the mystery and grace of his suffering. We then receive the two-fold benefit of having our suffering unite us more perfectly to Christ’s perfect love, purifying ourselves of distractions and errors and self-pity, to be made into a more selfless, self-surrendering gift to God. But also, God allows our suffering with Christ to give us grace through Christ that we can offer for a particular holy intention, such as our loved ones. What is lacking in the afflictions of Christ is our offering up of our suffering, our affliction, into the afflictions of Christ, so that we become sanctified by our own suffering with Christ, and through that, we also become vessels of the grace of the afflictions of Christ into the world around us.

And what strikes me, personally, as a priest, is the rest of Paul’s sentence. He says: “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the church, of which I am a minister in accordance with God’s stewardship given to me to bring to completion for you the word of God, the mystery hidden from ages and from generations past.” Paul feels that, by his ordained vocation as their spiritual father, he has a special obligation and privilege of offering his afflictions for the people he is appointed by God to care for, to offer the grace of his redemptive suffering on behalf of the church, to help bring his people into the fullness of the mystery, now revealed in Christ, which is God’s suffering and saving love for us.

So what do we do with this? We tie it back to Martha and Mary. Mary chose the better part, the one thing, which is uniting herself, forming her heart, by intimate discipleship of Christ. We need to do the works of Martha, but in the spirit of Mary. Fill your heart with Christ, unite yourself to his love poured out for you, and nourished from that source, do your work. Serve God and others, as your participation, your unique personal share of loving others, offering your suffering for others, from the overflowing wellspring of divine life and love within you, out into the world and the people around us. That’s why putting God first is the first thing. That’s the main thing, of not being distracted and worried about many things. Not only avoiding our trying to pour out of an empty tank, trying to do the divine work before us with only our own human resources, but also to understand what is the most important work for us that we are called to do, and how the other things are rightly sorted after it. There is need of only one thing, the better part, and it will not be taken from us.

Homily: Gathering the Harvest

14th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)
Isaiah 66:10-14c
Psalm 66:1-3, 4-5, 6-7, 16, 20
Galatians 6:14-18
Luke 10:1-12, 17-20 


St. Philip Neri, who earned the title “Apostle of Rome”, is an example of the missionary zeal in today’s Gospel. Philip came to Rome in the early 1500s as an immigrant. He was horrified by the moral condition of the city. Philip prayed to God to learn what he might do. He read the letters that St. Francis Xavier had sent back from India, where he had been converting tens of thousands. Philip thought that God was calling him to follow the great missionary to India. When he told his spiritual director what he thought God was asking of him, the wise old priest affirmed his desire to bear witness to Christ. However, he told Philip to focus his attention on re-evangelizing those around him, declaring, “Rome is to be your India!” Philip, relying on God’s help, started — first as a layman, then as a priest — to convert Rome. He would cheerfully go to street corners and say, “Friends, when are we going to start to do good?” He developed various social and religious activities to give the people better alternatives for their hearts and time than those offered by the culture around them. When he died in 1595, much of Rome had been reconverted. This would also be a good example of what the Church in the 20th century is calling “The New Evangelization,” to call back to faithful discipleship those who already received the gospel yet have fallen away from following it. The same God who spoke to Philip almost five hundred years ago challenges each one of us this morning through the Scriptures, “Your home and your family, your workplace and your parish are your mission field!” Or to use one of my favorite phrases, “Bloom where you’re planted.

Our Gospel reading reminds us of when Jesus first sent out his twelve apostles. And he had given them a share in his power and authority. It says, “He summoned the Twelve and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, and he sent them to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal [the sick].

The scene in our gospel reading is in the chapter of Saint Luke’s gospel after that, and here Jesus sends out seventy-two disciples. Here it says, “At that time the Lord appointed seventy-two others whom he sent ahead of him in pairs to every town and place he intended to visit. He 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. Go on your way; behold, I am sending you like lambs among wolves.

So, some interesting things to notice here. First, we might hear it said by some Christians that Jesus didn’t have organization to his followers, they were a motley crew of believers who just went out and shared the good news about Jesus. However, the gospels, especially Matthew, present Jesus as a new Moses, a new prophetic lawgiver. Moses was instructed by God to ordain Aaron and his two sons, and then, again instructed by God, appointed seventy elders to help him in his ministry over the twelve tribes of Israel. Jesus frequently set apart Peter, James and John as special witnesses of his works, he had twelve apostles, and now commissions seventy (or seventy-two) to assist him in his ministry. Just as in Jesus’ time, there was the High Priest, and the Sanhedrin, or high council, of seventy (or seventy-two) elders. So, Jesus is not being random here, it is very intentional. He is establishing something new, but in a well-established structure.

He tells them of their purpose: not only prepare the way for him, but also recruit more laborers; to reap the harvest that the master of the harvest has already prepared in the hearts of those who will respond and join in the work to be done for the kingdom.

And he tells them that it will not necessarily go smoothly, like lambs among wolves. There’s a quote attributed to G. K. Chesterton that says, “Jesus promised his disciples three things—that they would be completely fearless, absurdly happy, and in constant trouble.” We sometimes need to remember that the gospels are written after Pentecost to often suffering communities of the faithful, to both better instruct them in the faith, and also to inspire them to live out the faith. And so sometimes the current experiences of the community, such as suffering persecution, feeling like lambs among wolves, are written in the gospels as part of that affirmation that they are living out what Jesus had taught.

The rest of the instructions that Jesus gives the seventy-two are almost the same as what he had told the twelve in the previous chapter. But the ending here is wonderfully important. “The seventy-two returned rejoicing, and said, ‘Lord, even the demons are subject to us because of your name.’ Jesus said, ‘I have observed Satan fall like lightning from the sky. Behold, I have given you the power to ‘tread upon serpents’ and scorpions and upon the full force of the enemy and nothing will harm you.  Nevertheless, do not rejoice because the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice because your names are written in heaven.’” So obviously as we all know, there is great joy in seeing how God has worked through us to help someone else. He has given his Church a share in his power and authority to vanquish demons and other evils, represented here by Old Testament references to serpents and scorpions, by Jesus’ authority. And he says something we’ve often heard, the war of good and evil is already won. But the spiritual battles continue. There’s another old quote, “When Satan reminds you of your past, you remind him of his future.” But there we see the crux of the gospel reading: don’t rejoice just because you saw the losing side losing; rejoice because by your faith you are on the winning side winning. You’re on the right side, even when it doesn’t seem that way. Again, that affirmation and encouragement the Word of God provides us for difficult times.

This ties in beautifully with our first reading from the Old Testament prophet Isaiah, giving Israel, represented by its mother city of Jerusalem, God’s promise of victory and consolation. And we know that this promise, this victory, is won by the fulfillment of the long-awaited Messiah of Israel, Jesus Christ, and in the Church, the fulfillment of Israel. Isaiah says, “Thus says the LORD: Rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad because of her, all you who love her; exult with her, all you who were mourning over her!” Another great quote, again by Chesterton, “Christianity has died many times and risen again; for it had a God who knew the way out of the grave.” Back to the reading, with God speaking through Isaiah, “Lo, I will spread prosperity over Jerusalem like a river, and the wealth of the nations like an overflowing torrent… as a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; in Jerusalem you shall find your comfort. When you see this, your heart shall rejoice…the LORD’s power shall be known to his servants.” The traditional understanding of the prophecy of the world’s treasures flowing toward Jerusalem, is the opposite of how it was ultimately fulfilled: not that they would come to Jerusalem, but that the faith and the divine kingdom that started in Jerusalem, the Church, would flow out to include all the world. And we find our greatest comfort, our peace and affirmation of love in the Church, in God, and when we see this, the Lord’s power is known to those who serve him, and our hearts rejoice. So beautiful. Dr. Scott Hahn has a book called, “A Father Who Keeps His Promises,” and it’s about things like this, how the promises of the Old Testament are fulfilled in the New Testament.

And lastly, as is often the case, Saint Paul brings it home in the second reading. “Brothers and sisters: 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. For neither does circumcision mean anything, nor does uncircumcision, but only a new creation.” We don’t put our hearts, our worth, our identity, our priority, on anything in this passing world. Certainly, there are things that are both urgent and important, and cause us stress, but never to the extent that they interfere with the faith and worship we owe to God, and nourishing our relationship with Him. We are made a new creation in Him, still body and spirit, still with bills to pay and problems to solve, but one who has peace that the world cannot give. Happiness that comes from knowing we have a great purpose, even to our suffering, and in God’s plan for our life and our salvation, he included how dumb we can be sometimes, and to me, that is a great comfort. So let us continue detaching our sense of self and priorities from this world and strengthen their hold on the true and eternal world to come. And help and inspire others to do the same. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers and sisters. Amen.

Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles

Saint Peter, with upside-down cross of his crucifixion and the keys of the kingdom.
Saint Paul, with the sword, both the instrument of his martyrdom, and the Word of God

Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles (go to readings)
Acts 12:1-11
Psalm 34:2-3, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9
2 Timothy 4:6-8, 17-18
Matthew 16:13-19


One of my favorite movies is “Big Fish,” a 2003 Tim Burton movie with Albert Finney, Ewen McGregor, Steve Buscemi, and of course, Helena Bonham Carter, because it’s a Tim Burton movie. In the movie, the main character, Ed Bloom, is in a hospital on his deathbed, and he has a strained relationship with his son, because everything the father has ever said about his own life is encoded in fantastic stories of mythic proportion, which the son feels has kept them from having an honest relationship. But as the movie goes on, you start to wonder if the myth isn’t in fact more fact than myth, and in fact, the distinction is easy to myth (I mean, “miss”!). The common becomes extraordinary, and vice versa. We’re made for stories, and myth makes the stories memorable and inspiring. And even in myth, the truth is just under the surface. An old Irish priest, Fr. McNeil, once told me, “All stories are true. And some of them actually happened.”

Our story as Christians is encapsulated between the inspired books of Genesis and the Apocalypse, our origin story and our destiny. The rest of Scripture and Tradition fills in details, while our Catholic faith informs it so that our lives are our own personal part of this great epic drama of salvation history.

The poet Virgil, in his epic poem, the Aeneid, tells the ancient story of the founding of the city of Rome. Aeneus takes his family and flees from the fall of Troy to start a new city on the Italian peninsula (The Aeneid is from the first century BC, and builds on earlier stories of Aeneus, most popularly Homer’s 8th century BC epic poem, the Iliad). He becomes the ancestor of the twin brothers Romulus and Remus, about whom there are many stories, some more believable than others, sometimes involving being brought up by a mother wolf. Eventually, they were raised as shepherds. When they were grown to adulthood, they one day got into a pastoral altercation with another nearby shepherd, and the brothers decided to build a fortified city. But they could not agree on where.

The Seven Hills of what would become Rome were the general area, but Romulus chose the Palatine Hill, while Remus preferred the Aventine. Each set out to build, and when Remus made fun of Romulus’ defensive walls by having the audacity to jump over them to show their uselessness, Romulus ended the matter by killing his brother. Thus, in a story echoing the tragic account from Genesis, a sort of “original sin” came to Rome by way of fratricide. In his work, The City of God, Saint Augustine, who was well acquainted with Roman myths, would compare the story of Romulus and Remus to that of Cain and Abel.

By the time we come to the mid-fifth century, the era of persecution now mostly a thing of the past, the City of Rome having been substantially Christianized, a newer founding narrative comes into the Roman consciousness: This narrative depicts the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul, shepherds, pastors, brothers in the faith and in the Apostolic College, as the founders of the new and eternal Rome, something better and more noble than its pagan origin story. In a homily preached for the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul in the year 441, Pope Saint Leo the Great says:

That reverence which today’s festival has gained from all the world, it is to be honored with special exultation in our city, that there may be a predominance of gladness in the place where the chief of the Apostles met their glorious end. For these are the men, through whom the light of Christ’s gospel shone on you, O Rome, and through whom you, who was the teacher of error, was made the disciple of Truth. These are your holy Fathers and true shepherds, who built you under much better and happier auspices than they, by whose zeal the first foundations of your walls were laid: and of whom the one that gave you your name defiled you with his brother’s blood. These [the apostles] are they who promoted you to such glory, that being made a holy nation, a chosen people, a priestly and royal state [1 Peter 2:9], and the head of the world through the blessed Peter’s holy See, you attained a wider sway by the worship of God than by earthly government. For although you were increased by many victories, and extended your rule on land and sea, yet what your toils in war subdued, is less than what the peace of Christ has conquered.

Thus, we will often see in the ancient documents and doctors of the Church references to “Peter and Paul” as a pair, as brothers in the Christian Faith, as the tradtional foundation of Christendom.

 Like Mary and Martha, the sister virtues of “ora et labora” (to take a traditional Benedictine phrase), “prayer and work,” we see a holy complementarity in this pairing. As Mary is often associated with the virtues of the contemplative life, sitting at the feet of the Lord, and Martha with the virtues of the active life, showing hospitality, caring for the needy, providing food for the hungry, etc., we also see a complementarity in the figures of Peter and Paul. Peter is often associated with the charisms of the hierarchical church, the structure of organization and the sacraments, the noble grandeur of the Mass and the great basilicas and cathedrals, the organization of laws and instructions for order and discipline in the People of God. Meanwhile Saint Paul is more often associated with the charismatic evangelization, going out to the fringes to make disciples, preaching the gospel, as well as the building up of the mystical body of Christ through the spiritual gifts given to its members for serving the community.

This complementarity is not strictly mutually exclusive. Peter also had mystical visions and experiences and the holy charisms of his office received from Jesus and which Peter passed on to his successors. And Paul also taught rules and boundaries for discipline and correction within the Christian communities. And of course, both of them, in Peter’s denial in the garden, and Paul’s zealous persecution of the Church, had stories of their shame and forgiveness that inspired their personal love of the Lord and their mission to spread the gospel.

Our readings contemplate key moments in the holy lives of these Apostles, particularly near their end. After Herod had already martyred Saint James, Saint Peter is arrested, as it says, during the feast of unleavened bread, with intention of having him brought out, presumably for a meaningless trial and tortuous martyrdom, after Passover. So we see Peter, now full of the Holy Spirit after Pentecost, courageously living out that love of God and the Church that he was unable to muster in dialogue with Jesus by the seashore, but in which Jesus calls him both to be his shepherd of his flock, and also to follow him, and we see in Saint Peter an echo of the passion of Christ. Saint Paul is writing to Timothy in our second reading, aware, as the Spirit has told him, that his martyrdom is also drawing close. “I… am already being poured out like a libation, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith… so that through me the proclamation might be completed, and all the Gentiles might hear it.”

And so to end, I want to contemplate an interesting contrast between Peter and Paul that we can take with us today. I had a gentleman in spiritual direction, a successful business owner, pose this question to me. We have this scene in our first reading from Acts 12, of Peter in prison, and he’s given an out, a way to escape prison. And he goes, and it’s the right thing. But later, in Acts 16, we have the scene of Paul in prison with Silas. And because of an earthquake, the jail’s foundation was broken, the doors and chains came loose, and he’s given an out, a way to escape, but he stays, and it’s the right thing. So, the same or similar situation, and one time the right thing was one thing, and another time the right thing was the almost-opposite thing. So how do we know what we’re supposed to do?

I had to think about that, and we talked, as we exchanged ideas, exploring this question. And what we came up with was very interesting, I think. Our reasoning for asking the question, “Given these sets of circumstances, how do I know what choice to make?” can be a way of asking, “How do I make a rule so that I know what I should do, without having to ask God what I should do?” It’s a subtle attempt to substitute a relationship with God with our independence from him. Certainly, rules and principles of ethical and moral choices are important. But instead of (or in addition to) setting out to create a schema in which we want to always know the right response to every moral dilemma, we should always be turning toward God, after the example of St. Peter and St. Paul, and ask Him, in every circumstance, “God, what do you want me to do? Here I am, Lord. Send me. Lead me. Help me to love you, to listen to you, and to follow you.” Let Him be the writer of your amazing story, so full of miracles it’s almost hard to believe it’s all true.

Homily: Behold God’s Love for You

Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ – June 22, 2025 (Year C) go to readings
Genesis 14:18-20
Psalm 110:1, 2, 3, 4
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Luke 9:11b-17


“Behold God’s Love for You!” In his book, “Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist,” Catholic author Dr. Brant Pitre poses the question, “Why did the early Christians so strongly believe in the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, and yet modern Christians struggle with this belief? And he proposes the answer that it is “because the early Christians knew the Jewish scriptures, the Old Testament, better than most modern Christians do.” And in his book, he traces the Eucharist along three threads that weave through the Old Testament. He looks at the Passover Lamb, the Manna in the wilderness, and my favorite one, the bread of presence in the Holy Place in the Temple.

To make a long story less long, the proper translation of the Jewish “lahem ha panim” is “the Bread of the Face of God.” It was a visible presentation of the invisible God, and it was twelve cakes of bread, a grain offering, also called an oblation, on a golden table, also with a flagon of wine, that were always to be present in the Holy Place with the golden lampstand. The golden lampstand, in Hebrew, a menorah, was always lit in the presence of the Lord, represented by the mercy seat on the golden box that was the ark of the covenant. And the bread and wine were an offering to the Lord by the priest on behalf of the children of Israel as an everlasting covenant, says the book of Leviticus.

Here is my favorite part. On the major pilgrimage feasts of Jewish Tradition (Passover, Pentecost, Tabernacles), all Jewish men were required to go to the Jerusalem Temple. In fact, the law didn’t just say they were required to go to the Temple, but they were required “see the face of the LORD”. How many psalms are there of an impatient pilgrim on his journey to Jerusalem singing, “when may I come to see the face of God?” And on these feasts, the temple priests would solemnly carry the table of the holy bread, from the holy place in the Temple to the outer courts, and while they lifted up the table, they would proclaim, “Behold God’s love for you!

The holy bread of the presence of God was called the bread of the covenant, not a sign or symbol of the covenant, along with the wine that was poured out as a libation offering. The bread made present the invisible God, as it was a promise of the invisible temple of which the visible temple was a participation and promise. The bread, before it was offered, could be placed on any surface, but after it was consecrated, it was the miraculous food of the holy place, and could only be laid on a surface of gold.

Toward the end of this chapter, Dr. Pitre raises two points: First, in the Holy Place in the temple, as we said, there was the gold box of the presence of God, whom we would call God the Father; there was the lampstand, the tongues of fire, always present with the ark of the Lord, who do we associate with tongues of Fire? The Holy Spirit. And so we have the Father, the Holy Spirit, and this “bread of the presence of God,” the bread of the everlasting covenant, so this would be…God the Son. We have the Holy Trinity presented in the Holy Place in the Temple way back in the beginnings of the Old Testament! And what do we have front and center in the holiest place of a Catholic sanctuary? A gold box! And what is always close to the gold box in every Catholic sanctuary? A sanctuary candle, always lit in the presence of the Lord. And what do we have on the altar in the Eucharist in every Catholic sanctuary? The bread of the presence of God, and the offering of wine. The sanctuary is based on the holy place of the Temple, which was based on the image God showed Moses in constructing the Tent of Meeting.

In the Passover, the tradition would have been to have a lamb (also called “the body”) on the table. And of course, one of the criteria of completing the Passover is not just that you sacrifice the lamb, but you have to eat the body of the lamb. If the New Testament lamb of the Passover—Jesus, the Lamb of God, who said that the bread was his body—must be greater than the Old Testament lamb of the Passover, then it can’t be a symbol—it can’t be what Jesus intended—because we have to eat the body of the Lamb, not just a symbol of it. It was pretty clear he intended it when he said, “My body (flesh) is true food and my blood is true drink, and unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you have no life in you.”

But more to the point, why didn’t Jesus just identify his body with “the body” of the Passover lamb? That would have been an easier image! But where might Jesus have pulled the notion that a he as a person (a divine person!) can be made present in bread and wine? From the Temple: the sign of God’s real presence to Israel, and the covenant offering from Israel to God.

And so, in the Mass, after the people of God chant the Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God, the priest holds up the consecrated bread and wine, the body and blood of Jesus, crucified and resurrected for our salvation, and the priest proclaims, “Behold the Lamb of God!” But also, in my heart as I proclaim that, I’m also thinking, “Behold God’s love for you! Behold the face of the God who loves you so much, that he became human for you, was crucified and died for you, and rose again for you, to send the Holy Spirit upon you, and through that same Holy Spirit, now gives himself to you, to feed and nourish you with the bread that came down from heaven!”

And again, if the Old Testament manna was really understood to be bread from heaven, then the New Testament manna, the Eucharist, must be really understood to be bread from heaven and more, not less. It cannot be merely a symbol or reminder of bread from heaven, it must be a greater reality in the New Testament. It must be more than the miraculous bread that God gave his people in the Old Testament to nourish them as their food for the journey, to strengthen them through their preparations to become His people and live as His people and worship him, set apart, consecrated, as his peculiar and holy people, as a sign and promise for the world.

The Eucharist is more than the manna, and it is more than the sacrificial lamb of the Passover, and it is more than the bread and wine of the Temple that became the presence and the face of God. When we are on our knees receiving the gift of Jesus of Himself in the Eucharist, raised up to draw all men to himself, through the Holy Spirit, when the minister of communion holds up the host in front of you, in that moment of Eucharistic Adoration, and proclaims to you, “The body of Christ,” you should also hear the words in your heart, “Behold God’s love for you,” and you can respond with a reverent and joyful profession of faith, “Amen.”

Homily: Important and Urgent

The Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) go to readings
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Psalm 25:4-5, 6-7, 8-9
1st Corinthians 7:29-31
Mark 1:14-20


I have often spoken of my appreciation of Steven Covey’s book, “The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People,” and I have used his principles as examples. Today we have another one. It’s about urgency and importance. You can put them on a grid of four quadrants. The top row are high urgency things, and the bottom row are low urgent things. The left side are high importance things, and the right side are low importance things.

In the first quadrant, you have those things that are both urgent and important. Important deadlines. Things that have to be done as soon as reasonably possible, or bad things will happen if you don’t. At work, it’s putting out the fires. Down in the Quadrant 3, we have things that are high in urgency and low and importance. Things that seem like we have to do them right now, but really if we took a longer look, they’re not that important. They’re the annoying or procrastinating things that aren’t that important that get in the way of being more productive. You don’t want to be organizing your collection of trolls when you should be doing what your boss asked you to do. Over in quadrant 4, you have the things that are low in importance, and low in urgency. It doesn’t really matter much if they get done, and it doesn’t really matter when. For example, organizing your collection of trolls.

But the magic happens in Quadrant 2: This is the category of things that are high importance, but rarely get the attention they deserve because we’re too busy putting out the fires of Quadrant 1 stuff. Quadrant 2 is the stuff that we know we should invest time in. Preparing our investment portfolio. Reading the pile of books we mean to get to. Calling or visiting that friend that keeps coming to mind. Practicing our musical instrument or hobby. All those things that make our life richer, make our future more positive, builds relationships, and we keep putting it off because we’re too busy. So it either becomes urgent, and rushes into Quadrant 1, when we now have to take care of a long term project with insufficient time, or it gets puts down in Quadrant 4, where we just never get to it, and our life is less flourishing by its neglect.

Most of us put our religion, our relationship with God, building a habit of prayer, and getting to know our faith, out in quadrant 2. Yeah, I know it’s important, but I’ll have time to do that later when I’m not so busy with the stuff I need to do now. Our readings today, here at the beginning of the liturgical year, are to teach us to put our faith where it belongs: In quadrant 1. It’s important and urgent. It’s every day, every moment, every situation, every relationship. It’s everything.


Last week we saw in the Gospel of John, Andrew and another disciple, possibly John, have their first encounter with Jesus, after they were directed to him by John the Baptist. Then Andrew introduced his brother Peter to Jesus. This week we have the Gospel of Mark, and we have a different version of the story. Jesus is walking along the shore, and happens to see Peter and Andrew, and simply says, “Follow me,” and they immediately go. Then John and James, who leave their nets and their father, follow also. No long intro, no discourse. Call and response.

We might take issue with these two gospel versions of Jesus gathering his disciples. Which one is right? The Gospel of John or the Gospel of Mark? Notice that in John, John the Baptist is there pointing out Jesus, and the disciples spend an evening talking with him. Here in the beginning of our reading from Mark, it starts out, “After John had been arrested.” So this is clearly a later event. And perhaps that’s why the disciples leave so quickly: they’ve been prepared, their hearts have been set on fire with the hope of encountering Jesus again, and when he calls them, they jump at the invitation.

His invitation to these fishermen, that Jesus will make them “Fishers of men” is not just a neat play on words. It’s also fulfillment of prophecy. The prophet Jeremiah taught the Israelites to look forward to a new exodus which would eclipse the original exodus in its significance. And this exodus will be the restoration of Israel when he calls them and they all come streaming back from all the nations of the world. The kingdom of the northern tribes of Israel had been conquered and scattered by the great enemy to the northeast, the Assyrian Empire, in the 7th century BC, because of the northern kingdom’s corruption and other sins against God. Jeremiah says, “Therefore, behold, the days are coming, says the LORD, when it shall no longer be said, `As the LORD lives who brought up the people of Israel out of the land of Egypt,’ but `As the LORD lives who brought up the people of Israel out of the north country and out of all the countries where he had driven them.’ For I will bring them back to their own land which I gave to their fathers. Behold, I am sending for many fishers, says the LORD, and they shall catch them…

Also, there’s another prophecy in play, from the book of Daniel. The Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar received an image in a dream of a large statue of different materials, gold, iron, and clay, which Daniel, an Israelite slave in the king’s court, interpreted for him to mean that there would be a succession of kingdoms: The Babylonian Empire, the Median/Persian Empire, Greek Empire, and the Roman Empire. Then in the dream a stone falls from heaven onto the statue, and the statue crumbles, and the stone grows to become a great mountain. And this is the kingdom of God. This prophecy from Daniel was popular among the Jews of Jesus’ time. So when Jesus comes on the scene saying, “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the good news,” and “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men,” it caused quite a stir in Israel.

Our first reading, about Jonah, has this same urgent call as our gospel. Jonah, much to his dislike, was called by God to minister to the capital city of that same pagan empire: the Assyrians, that had attacked and destroyed the northern tribes of Israel. Jonah had already tried fleeing to the other end of the world. That’s when the storm caused Jonah to be thrown overboard where he was eaten by a fish, and three days later found himself alive, back where he started, like Groundhog Day, with the firm order from God to go to Nineveh. So he did. He proclaimed the message God gave him: “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be destroyed.” It seems like Jonah didn’t really want Nineveh to be saved, and said no more than he had to, in the hopes that God would destroy this enemy city. But Nineveh was saved. They repented of their evil, petitioned the God of Israel, not even their own God, to spare them, and God did so. Again, we might balk at how the scripture states it: “God saw by their actions how they turned from their evil way, he repented of the evil that he had threatened to do to them.” First, how can God repent, and second, why would he have threatened evil? Well first, the implied fuller message to Nineveh was “If Nineveh doesn’t repent within 40 days, it will be destroyed.” So since Nineveh repented, God’s ultimatum was satisfied, and he didn’t have to carry through with his sentence. That’s not a change in God. And second, in ancient Hebrew, there was no word for suffering. So all the related words were communicated by the same term: suffering, evil, misery, distress, etc. So it’s not that God was threatening to do evil, but that he was threatening them with the suffering for their sin. An interesting observation is that Nineveh repented at the preaching of the prophet, and they were saved. Israel did not repent, and God used Assyria to punish them.

In our second reading, the urgency of the Christian life reaches its highest pitch. Saint Paul writes, “I tell you, brothers and sisters, the time is running out…For the world in its present form is passing away.” And he tells them, live in this world, but detached from it. Be ready to sacrifice all for God when he calls, that’s our first priority. Love your wife, your home, your job, your life in the world, but love God more and be ready. Whatever you’re going through, grieving, rejoicing, whatever you’re doing, buying, selling… this is like a description of the people of Noah’s day, who were doing all the everyday “important” things, instead of listening to Noah and preparing for the flood.

And lastly, our psalm connects with an important part of this weekend. “Your ways, O LORD, make known to me; teach me your paths; Guide me in your truth and teach me.” Saturday evening our students in 8th grade entered into the last stage before receiving the Sacrament of Confirmation. This is the sacrament giving us the grace of witnessing to the world as a Christian, responsible for our actions, for our habits and lifestyle, for our example to others, for our salvation. They leave the school of childhood formation in the faith, and take their place among the ranks of Christians who must know their faith and live it out in a world that might be opposed to us on important, life-or-death matters. Hopefully by this point they have a discipline of daily prayer, of growing in relationship with our Lord and with the Blessed Mother, and they have a firm foundational understanding of our faith on which to build their character and their future faith development. We pray for them, as we pray for the whole world, that we may urgently serve our Lord in His truth, love, and mercy.


Homily: The Baptism of the Lord

The Baptism of Jesus (Year B) (go to readings)
Isaiah 55:1-11
(Responsorial) Isaiah 12:2-3, 4bcd, 5-6
1 John 5:1-9
Mark 1:7-11


The best way to start this, I think, is to ask the question most people ask: Why would Jesus go to get baptized, if he had never sinned? I hope that by the end of this, you’ll have a good answer to that question. Now, you can take the snarky approach, and answer the question with, “For the same reason that Jesus went to get crucified, although he had never sinned.” That touches upon the real answer to the question, so we’re going to look at this close connection between the Baptism and the Crucifixion.


In God’s revelation of himself as the Holy Trinity, God the Father is the source of all being, all that is life, all that is good, true, and beautiful. God the Son is the communication, the logos, the expression, the Word, of God, to everything outside of God. Every outward expression of God is an interaction with the Son, an act of, or through, the Son. It is through the Son that the angels and the heavenly host and our material world is created; it is through the Son that God reveals himself in the world, most especially to humanity. God the Holy Spirit then is the enduring presence of God that sustains everything. It is by the Holy Spirit that the heavenly host exists and praises God; it is by the Holy Spirit that the logic and order and being of all creation is sustained; it is the Holy Spirit that breathed into Adam, giving us not just natural life, but particularly human spiritual life, that enables us to be persons oriented toward communion. That is why it was not good for Adam to be alone, and God created Eve for them to be in communion, in a particular relationship only available to those with a spirit.  

In the fall of humanity in Adam and Eve, our spirits were distorted from their original likeness; we lost our communion with God, we wounded our relationship with each other, and even within ourselves. In losing our relationship with God because of sin (although God never stopped loving us), we are unable to be in the presence of God, the infinite furnace of divine love. It would burn us up. And since our souls are immortal, we would not die, we would be burning for eternity, which is far from the eternity of peace and communion that God wants for us. And so heaven, God’s presence, is unavailable to us. We cannot reconcile with God by our own power. Humanity created a barrier, from our side of the relationship, which we cannot tear down.

And so God began the long process of preparing humanity for his gift of reconciliation. In the fullness of time, with the consent and cooperation of the Blessed Virgin Mother Mary, the Word of God, God the Son, entered into our fallen human nature, fully retaining his infinite divine nature.

His mission was to tear down the barrier from the human side of the relationship between humanity and divinity. Only in his divinity did he have the infinite power to do so, so only the infinite God in his perfect mercy and love for us could do this. He didn’t have to do this; this was his free choice, made in love.

When Jesus, humanity and divinity united in one person, reached the fullness of his maturity, which at the time was believed to be about 30 years old, he began his earthly ministry, his divine mission, to tear down the barrier, and to bring humanity back into common union, communion, with God the Father, that we may have the way of eternal life restored to us. Jesus entered into this act of baptism, being washed in the waters of the Jordan River, the river that Israel had crossed to complete their exodus and enter into the Promised Land. From that point forward, Jesus was guided by the Holy Spirit, in union with the Father, for they are all one, and began collected into his humanity all the sin, death, suffering, illness, and burdens of fallen humanity.

As he neared the completion of his mission, he gave his disciples, who were the foundation stones of the Church that would continue his presence and mission on earth, the way by which they could forever re-enter into and renew their participation in the covenant of his saving act of self-sacrifice: the Holy Eucharist.

In the final act of his humanity, in the moments of his death, he says, “It is finished,” or in the Latin, “Consummatum est,” it is consummated. In this act, all the sin that separated us from God was itself put to death. The Son of God had consummated his mission that began with his baptism. The Word achieved the mission for which it was sent.

For just as from the heavens
  the rain and snow come down
And do not return there
  till they have watered the earth,
  making it fertile and fruitful,
Giving seed to him who sows
  and bread to him who eats,  
So shall my word be
  that goes forth from my mouth;
It shall not return to me void,
  but shall do my will,
  achieving the end for which I sent it.

(Isa 55:10-11)

In the Gospel of Mark, he only combines the words “torn” and “Son” in two places: when the heavens were torn open at his baptism, as the voice proclaimed to Jesus that “You are my Son in whom I am well pleased”; and at his crucifixion, when the temple veil was torn down the middle, and the Roman centurion proclaimed, “Truly, this was the Son of God.” The Temple veil was blue and embroidered with the constellations, representing the heavens, and it veiled the entrance to the Holy of Holies, the place of the Ark of the Covenant, the place of God’s presence. In the consummation of his mission, God the Son, the Word in our humanity, tore the veil that separates us from God. He paid the price and reconciled us, as only he, in his great mercy and power, could do for us.

I myself have installed my king
on Zion, my holy mountain.
I will proclaim the decree of the LORD,
he said to me, “You are my son; today I have begotten you.
Ask it of me, and I will give you the nations as your inheritance,
and, as your possession, the ends of the earth.

Psalm 2:6-8

Here is my servant whom I uphold,
my chosen one with whom I am pleased.
Upon him I have put my spirit;
he shall bring forth justice to the nations.
A bruised reed he will not break,
and a dimly burning wick he will not quench.
I formed you, and set you
as a covenant for the people,
a light for the nations,
To open the eyes of the blind,
to bring out prisoners from confinement,
and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness.

Isa 42:1, 3, 6-7

When Jesus’ side was pierced with a lance, water and blood flowed out. Water was the sign of baptism; blood the sign of the crucifixion. Jesus had asked James and John, “Can you drink the cup that I drink or be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?” (Mk 10:58). The Holy Spirit unites these events and fills them with divine life, and communicates that life to us. “And no one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except by the holy Spirit” (1 Cor 12:3).

This is the one who came through water and blood, Jesus Christ,
not by water alone, but by water and blood.
The Spirit is the one who testifies,
and the Spirit is truth.
So there are three that testify,
the Spirit, the water, and the blood,
and the three are of one accord.

If we accept human testimony,
the testimony of God is surely greater.
Now the testimony of God is this,
that he has testified on behalf of his Son.

1st John 5:6-12

Then, in his glorious resurrection, Jesus shows us the restoration of human life free of the burden and despair of sin. He reveals human life in glory, in reconciliation and communion with God, God the Holy Spirit joyfully and beautifully infused into human nature and filling humanity with divine life, which is grace.

In this victory, in this reconciliation, he invites all humanity to follow him through this journey on which he has led the way, the first fruit of the resurrection. And our first step on this journey to follow him is our baptism.

Heed me, and you shall eat well,
  you shall delight in rich fare.  
Come to me heedfully, listen,
  that you may have life.
Let the scoundrel forsake his way,
  and the wicked man his thoughts;
Let him turn to the LORD for mercy;
  to our God, who is generous in forgiving.  

Isa 55:2-3, 7

In this way we know that we love the children of God
when we love God and obey his commandments.
For the love of God is this,
that we keep his commandments.

1st John 5:2-3

In our baptism, we enter into the mystery of his baptism, which points toward, and is empowered with, the mystery of his death and resurrection. We enter into the tomb of baptism. We die to our sin, our old way of life, our fallen human nature full of sin and despair, just as he was laid in the tomb, having borne the cost of our sin. And in the same moment, we rise from the baptismal water, filled with his victory, his freedom from sin, his divine life in us, reconciled to God through him. We become members of his mystical body, as we embrace his life in us.

Or are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life. For if we have grown into union with him through a death like his, we shall also be united with him in the resurrection.

Rom 5:3-5

The muddy waters of the Jordan River are infused with the waters of the river of life that flow from the wellspring of divine love, and flow through the heavenly city of God. And we are washed clean in this supernatural water, and united with the heavenly communion and Holy Trinity in eternal life, which we possess and live in faith even in this world.

With joy you will draw water
at the fountain of salvation.

Isa 12:3

Without baptism, we would still be stuck in our sin, without hope, without salvation. Of course, God can do what he wills, and we can always hope that those who are not baptized, by no fault of their own, might be saved. But this is what he has revealed to us for our life, and it would be foolish not to listen to him. But even those who are not themselves baptized, any hope they may have they have through the mystery of Jesus’ mission of reconciliation.


So, why would Jesus go to get baptized, if he had never sinned? Because by entering into his baptism, he gives us our entrance into his death to sin and its consequences, and our rebirth to the life of grace and reconciliation with God, so that we may enter into our earthly mission to witness to Jesus as the Son of God, through the power of the Holy Spirit, and our life in His Church, for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.


Homily: Epiphany

The Epiphany of the Lord (go to readings)
Isaiah 60:1-6
Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 10-11, 12-13
Ephesians 3:2-3A, 5-6
Matthew 2:1–12


[In the United States, the Solemnity of the Epiphany is moved from its traditional date of January 6 (the Twelfth Day of Christmas) to the Sunday between Jan. 2 and Jan. 8].

“Epiphany” is from Greek, epi- meaning “on or upon,” and -phany meaning to shine. So, on the feast day of Epiphany we celebrate the shining, or revelation, of the divine light of Jesus onto the world.


So first, let’s talk about the magi. The word magi is related to our word magic or magician. Originally a magi was like a philosopher-scientist, who studied the the truths of the world, so someone who studied philosophy, metaphysics, astronomy, astrology, biology, theology, perhaps even psychology, at least as these fields of knowledge existed at the time, and were far more overlapping and less separated than they are now. Such wisemen were often part of a royal court as advisers. So these magi arrive, carrying gifts. The important thing is that they were from the east; they were not Israelite, they were pagan wisemen. Ancient Roman and other pagan historians at the time make mention that not only Israel, but many pagan nations also, were expecting a great, wise, and glorious king to rise up in Israel.

And that ties in our first reading, from the Old Testament prophet Isaiah. This prophecy of hope and glory, given at a time of suffering after the return from the Exile, when Israel seemed to have neither hope nor glory, tells of a future day when all the kingdoms of the world would come flowing toward Jerusalem, as the whole world worshiped the one true God, present and worshiped in the Temple of Israel. They would bring their riches into Jerusalem which would be the center of human civilization in every aspect. Jerusalem would be a beacon of light drawing all the world by its glory. Not only that, it says, “they all gather and come to you: your sons come from afar, and your daughters in the arms of their nurses.” So there’s also the Israelite dream of the restoration, the re-gathering of the twelve tribes of Israel. And particularly interesting for todays’ feast, Isaiah says, “Nations shall walk by your light, and kings by your shining radiance… they all gather and come to you… bearing gold and frankincense and proclaiming the praises of the LORD.”

A quick look at the Responsorial Psalm refines this image. This psalm is titled, “Of Solomon,” but it doesn’t mean it was written by Solomon, but written by David about his son Solomon, the royal Son of David who was a great king renowned for his incredible wisdom, at least at the beginning of his reign. This was the high point of Israel’s monarchy, an international kingdom of great justice and flourishing. And in this psalm, David makes a similar prophecy: The kings of Tarshish and the Isles shall offer gifts; the kings of Arabia and Seba shall bring tribute. All kings shall pay him homage, all nations shall serve him.” We might remember that the great and wise queen of Sheba, the Queen of the South, had come to meet with Solomon, and gave a wealth of gifts in honor of his unprecedented wisdom. And going back to our gospel reading, there is something greater than Solomon here. But our first reading and psalm today help to explain why the gospel reading says “magi,” and yet we sing about “We three kings.” Also, the bible doesn’t say that there were only three; just that there were three gifts. There could have been many magi in the caravan, some could have been women. But we traditionally have three wise men because there were three gifts named, combined with the prophecies we heard of kings bearing gifts.


Ok. So let’s now look at Herod, in our gospel. Herod was placed in power over Israel by the Romans, with the simple task of keeping the Israelites in line. Herod was not an Israelite but was from a nearby kingdom. He was quite wicked, and very insecure…a dangerous combination in a despotic leader. Historians tell us that Herod had his own wife and some of his children killed on suspicion that they were plotting against him. So when the magi show up asking “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage,” it says, “When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.” Jerusalem, or by extension, all of Israel, knew that if Herod’s panic and paranoia were enflamed, it could only bring something very bad.

Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. As it turned out, it brought the Slaughter of the Innocents, so they were right to be troubled. The sad irony is that Herod had no true reason to fear. Jesus wasn’t coming as a rival, to displace him. If Herod had embraced Jesus as Messiah and Lord, Herod could have been a great king, an instrument of the Most High God, to be a king of mercy, justice, and peace, and have a reign that was secure and stable. But instead, Herod gave in to his fear and pride. The dark side.


So let’s wrap this up with a nice little bow. Three closing thoughts.

First, the particular gifts that the magi brought: why gold, frankincense, and myrrh? Well, we saw in our first reading that gold and frankincense were among the gifts and treasures the kings would bring to Jerusalem. But more interestingly, the only other place that all three gifts are mentioned are in the Song of Songs, and they are mentioned at least loosely in connection with preparing for a wedding. We’ve talked many times about Christ coming as the Bridegroom to consummate a new and everlasting nuptial covenant; and it would embrace all nations, because Israel had been dispersed throughout all the nations, so to re-gather Israel, the new covenant would have to include all the nations. Not only that, but Jesus in his own person is the wedding of divinity and humanity.

Another aspect of these three gifts is that they may make reference to the three-fold office of Christ, anointed to be priest, prophet, and king. Obviously the gold corresponded to his royal majesty. Frankincense is a kind of incense, which is used in the liturgy of worship, denoting Jesus as the True High Priest. And the myrrh was for his anointing as a prophet of God’s truth, and, perhaps also an indication that, like so many prophets before, that as the perfect prophet of God’s word, it would inevitably lead to his death, and myrrh was among the traditional oils used in preparing the body for burial.


So second closing point: Jerusalem was often referred to by the prophets as the “virgin daughter Zion,” the beautiful virgin of God, raised, cared for, and protected by God (and in a different aspect in some prophecies, a virgin courted by God to be His Holy Bride…). And also, Jerusalem was considered to be the mother-city of the people of God, especially with the Ark in the Temple, where God was present with His people. We mentioned on the day we remembered the Slaughter of the Innocents (the Monday after Christmas) the prophecy of Rachel crying out from Ramah that her children were no more. Rachel was the wife of (Jacob) Israel, and in Israelite tradition she had a sort of maternal intercessory role for her descendants, her children (hmm… a maternal intercessory role…). In the Gospel reading for the Slaughter of the Innocents, Matthew is quoting Jeremiah’s image of despair as the inhabitants of Jerusalem were taken into exile. So there’s a connection in Israelite conscience of the maternity of Rachel and the maternity of Jerusalem. That’s where we get the word “metropolis”: mother city. Recall the quote from above, where Jerusalem rejoices at her sons and daughters gathering and returning to her.

So Jerusalem is both a virgin and a mother. Where else do we have a reference to a virgin mother, I wonder? Who, in today’s Gospel reading, may have been “radiant at what you see… as caravans of camels come to you bearing gold and frankincense, and proclaiming the praises of the LORD”? The magi-kings didn’t present their gifts when they got to virgin mother Jerusalem, but when, “on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother”: the “blessed virgin mother,” as the Church (the new people of God, of every nation) will call her for all generations. The magi came to Mary, and did homage to Jesus. An unexpected fulfillment of our first reading: they came to the virgin mother of the presence of God—but it wasn’t Jerusalem, it was Mary— and they paid homage to God with gifts.

This conflation of images for Jerusalem as holy city, virgin, bride, and mother, may help explain why the Book of Revelation seems to conflate Mary with the Church, and the Church with the Bride of the Lamb, and the Bride with the holy city of the New Jerusalem, and why the readings for some of Mary’s feast days prophetically celebrate the glory of Jerusalem. This dual symbol of virgin-mother may also help explain how Mary can be both the Mother of Jesus and the image of the New Eve, the bride of the New Adam. It can seem a little weird, but that’s mystical theology for you.


And our last point… the magi received a message in a dream not to return to Herod, and returned to their country by a different way. That’s our reality here and now: To follow the light of Jesus, to seek Jesus, to offer all our treasures and gits before him at his disposal, for his glory. And then after this divine encounter, we are to return to our world different, not in the way we came, but by the way he leads us afterward. We just had this beautiful experience at the end of 2020 of seeing the Christmas Star, the Star of Bethlehem. Maybe it was supposed to be more to us than, wow, this hasn’t happened in 800 years, and how weird is it that it happened at the end of 2020? Maybe it was, HEY! Seek Jesus! Find him! And guide your life by his light! Seek him in the holy scriptures, seek him in the holy sacraments, seek him in his presence within you, and in your neighbor. Seek him. Know him. Love him. Serve him.


Homily: 4th Sunday of Advent

4th Sunday in Advent (Year B) (go to readings)
2nd Samuel 7:1-5, 8b-12, 14a, 16
Psalm 89:2-3, 4-5, 27, 29
Romans 16:25-27
Luke 1:26-38


I saw a quote on social media recently, that I really liked. It said,

It was shared by a group called, “Limping toward Jerusalem,” and that sounded pretty appropriate, too. I went and checked out that group’s page, and the next quote was just as good:

I really thought that these simple quotes summed up well a good message for our last few days of preparation for this year’s Christmas.

This is Christmas in the year 2020, and it’s not going to be a normal celebration for most families. Some families are tighter on money than in previous years, some have their jobs or businesses compromised or at risk, most everyone has family members who are at risk health-wise, and might not be part of the traditional family gatherings, because of distance or quarantine concerns. And it’s likely that the month of December, like much of 2020, stormed through faster than expected, and we might not be feeling that “Christmasy.” That’s okay. We might want to do it up for the kids, who have done a great job being as resilient as could be expected of them… with remote learning and all sorts of new rules. It’s natural to try to protect their innocence from the concerns of the grown-up world. But kids aren’t dumb. Obviously, they know this year is different. And it’s okay that they know. You don’t have to give them the best Christmas ever, and get a ton of presents, especially if it’s an imprudent sacrifice. To quote another phrase I’ve seen online recently,

It’s a stressful year, and especially Christmas season, and that’s okay, too.

Joseph and Mary had travelled far from home, a poor couple alone, far from their families in the little village of Nazareth, lost in the city of Bethlehem, directed toward a stable to stay in, and to have their first child in, this child that so much had been said about. Mary had received the glorious encounter of the Annunciation from the archangel Gabriel (which we just heard, in our gospel reading from Luke). Joseph had received a similar message in a dream (which we heard Friday morning, from the gospel reading from Matthew). And here they were, giving birth to the Son of God, the Son of David, the promised Messiah, in a stinky, strange barn in a strange (rather inhospitable) city, without their families and friends. But the gift they received was everything: Jesus!


In our first reading, we heard the prophet Nathan give to King David the promise that—because David had so faithfully and devoutly served and worshiped the Lord, even through, or maybe because of, his awareness of his sinfulness, and David’s awareness of how inappropriate it was that he as king was living in a palace, but the ark of the covenant as the dwelling place of God Almighty was still kept in a portable tent, that he wanted to build a proper building for God and for the ark of his presence, reflecting the splendor of God—because this was the kind of heart and faith David had, Nathan conveys God’s promise to David: Do you think it is you, who will build a house for me? I took you from tending sheep in the fields, I anointed you, led you in battle, I made you great, I led you to the royal throne, and I planted Israel firmly in its own land and have given you a time of peace. It is not you who will build a house for me! I will build your house: your offspring will sit on the throne forever, I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to me. That promise was good for many generations(14, to be precise). But then a crisis came, when after the Babylonian exile, the dynasty of David’s descendants ended. His family lived on, of course, but no longer a royal family, no longer a son of David sitting on the throne of Israel. By the first century (another 14 generations later), “King” Herod was on the throne, and he wasn’t even ethnically part of Israel! But the promises of God are always fulfilled, in the divine wisdom of his own time. The promise of the rise of the son of David got enmeshed into the promises of the long-awaited Messiah, and the return of “one who is to come” in the spirit of Moses, and bring a new law, a new passover, a new exodus, a new promised land… a whole new heaven and earth.

And the full-blown fulfillment of that glorious divine promise unfolded in this decrepit little stable, with this poor young couple, in this strange city, alone and far from home.

But you might say, What about the multitude of heavenly hosts of angels gloriously singing the good news, a child is born, who is Christ and Lord, Messiah and king? Yes. That was true. That was the spiritual reality… hidden from sight in this humble scene. And the same is true of your little Christmas, whatever that might look like. What it is… is always more than what it looks like.


Saint Paul mentions in our second reading, “the revelation of the mystery kept secret for long ages but now manifested…” The “mystery kept secret for long ages” is the hidden spiritual reality of God’s plan, unfolding behind the years of waiting, years of suffering, years of wondering if God is doing anything in all this mess around us. And the fulfillment (the “revelation” and “manifestation”) of the mystery is the birth of Jesus, into this humble little family, from a humble little town… a town that happens to be filled with descendants from David, such is this honorable and virtuous man, Joseph, and his wife, Mary. (A town whose name, “Nazareth,” is related to the word “branch or shoot” in Hebrew; hence, “a shoot from the stump of Jesse”: Jesse was David’s father; and the “stump of Jesse” is the cut-down dynasty of David; so the “shoot” is a new beginning of the dynasty of David… and Nazareth, “shoot-town”, is full of descendants of David, including Joseph and (probably) Mary!)


We might not feel Christmasy right now. But it’s not about the feeling, it’s about the reality. We might feel stressed, I’m sure Joseph and Mary were stressed, too. We might be sad that loved ones are not with us, I’m sure Joseph and Mary missed their families in this moment, too. But your Christmas, however humble and compromised and simple it might seem, is surrounded by the spiritually company of choirs of heavenly hosts (and the communion of saints!) singing to your spirit about the good news being celebrated! So this is your permission to “have yourself a merry little Christmas.”

To reference one last quote,

Don’t confuse a particular celebration of Christmas, which is perhaps a bit less grandiose this year, with the mystery of Christmas, which is infinite in glory and spiritual joy. Keep the focus on the joy of our hope being born into the world, that the humblest little Christmas is a pure and beautiful participation in the full mystery of Christmas, and that even in times of apparent darkness and chaos, God is always at work guiding his beloved children according to his loving plan, and always keeping his promises.


Homily: Ready With Virtue

33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A) (go to readings)
Proverbs 31:10-13, 19-20, 30-31
Psalm 128:1-2, 3, 4-5
1st Thessalonians 5:1-6
Matthew 25:14-30


Our readings today beautifully tie together two themes: First, the theme we talked about last weekend and throughout the daily Masses this week about personal virtue and holiness. And second, the theme we always get as we approach the end of the liturgical year: the theme of the end times and the divine wisdom to always be prepared for its unexpected coming. Next Sunday is the feast of Christ the King of the Universe, which is the last Sunday of the liturgical year, before we begin the new year again with Advent.

Normally our parish hosts a Holy Hour of Eucharistic Adoration, followed by a spaghetti dinner, for our candidates for Confirmation. This year we have decided not to have the spaghetti dinner, but we will still be offering our Christ the King holy hour at 4:00 p.m. this upcoming Sunday.

The key to our parable is the praise given to the first and second servants: “Well done, my good and faithful servant. Since you were faithful in small matters, I will give you great responsibilities. Come, share your master’s joy.” First, this clues us in that we’re not talking about an ordinary master, but a special master. Second, the reward for being a virtuous servant is twofold: trust with greater responsibilities, and sharing in the master’s own joy. This gives us an indication that Jesus is talking not about an earthly master, but about God, and the reward for virtuously using your talents (or blessings) is that you receive more. And third, you are rewarded by sharing in heavenly joy, if you are found being virtuous whenever the master might return.

Then we get to the third servant. So first, this servant insults the master to his face, calling him a thief, harvesting where he did not plant, and gathering where he did not scatter. Then he uses that as his excuse for having no fruit for what he was entrusted with. The clear expectation of the master wasn’t that he wanted back what he gave, but that he wanted the servant to use it wisely. As Saint Jerome says, he offered excuses for his sin, so that to slothfulness and idleness was added also the sin of pride. For he who ought to have honestly acknowledged his fault, on the contrary, insults the master, and implies that he did so rightly, because it was the master’s fault in being so demanding.

The commentary in the New American Bible provides an explanation of the allegory. The Master going on a journey represents Jesus, and his journey is the Ascension. The talents represent the blessings which God has bestowed on each of us. The Master’s return represents Jesus’ Second Coming, and the Master’s dialogue with the servants represents the reckoning of Judgment Day. The parable teaches us that God will hold us accountable for what we have done—and what we have failed to do — with the gifts and opportunities presented to us. Our reward will depend on how we have developed and used our gifts to their fullest advantage. I’m reminded of another of Jesus’ sayings: that the one who tries to save his life will lose it—that’s the third servant who doesn’t want to risk anything, but just hides the unopened gift—but the one who loses his life will save it—that’s the first two servants, who hand over their gifts as an investment for the greatest good.

My hero of this story is the second servant, which is the character most applicable to most of us. He’s not envious of the first servant, wasting time comparing himself with his co-worker who is literally “more talented.” He doesn’t complain that he only got two talents.  He just gets to work and does what he can with what he has. In the end, his diligence receives the same reward as the first: to share in the master’s joy. It’s a message to all of us to focus on the duties of our state of life: focus on doing the small things of our lives with great love and great faithfulness.


That’s the image we have described in our first reading from Proverbs 31: The Poem of the Woman of Worth. It’s really unfortunate that we only have snippets of this description, and you really should read the whole little chapter. And while this is clearly and beautifully describing a woman of great virtue, it’s also a personification of Wisdom, whose attributes have been praised as Lady Wisdom (the feminine Greek word, “Sophia,”) throughout the book of Proverbs. While some might say it’s just an obsolete image of the virtuous woman in the time of ancient Jerusalem, the important thing is the image of the virtues she displays, and the blessings that her virtue brings, which are timeless.  

On this online version, I decided to include the entire poem here. One of the special things about this poem is that in the original Hebrew, the Hebrew alphabet is given by the first letter of each sentence! The parts that are in the liturgical reading are in bold-face (where the translation in the NAB is different than the liturgical reading, I used the liturgical reading).

When one finds a worthy wife,
her value is far beyond pearls.
Her husband, entrusting his heart to her,
has an unfailing prize.

She brings him good, and not evil,
all the days of her life.

She obtains wool and flax
and works with loving hands.

Like a merchant fleet,
she secures her provisions from afar.
She rises while it is still night,
and distributes food to her household,
a portion to her maidservants.
She picks out a field and acquires it;
from her earnings she plants a vineyard.
She girds herself with strength;
she exerts her arms with vigor.
She enjoys the profit from her dealings;
her lamp is never extinguished at night.
She puts her hands to the distaff,
and her fingers ply the spindle.

She reaches out her hands to the poor,
and extends her arms to the needy.

She is not concerned for her household when it snows—
all her charges are doubly clothed.
She makes her own coverlets;
fine linen and purple are her clothing.
Her husband is prominent at the city gates
as he sits with the elders of the land.
She makes garments and sells them,
and stocks the merchants with belts.
She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and laughs at the days to come.
She opens her mouth in wisdom;
kindly instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household,
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children rise up and call her blessed;
her husband, too, praises her:
“Many are the women of proven worth,
but you have excelled them all.”
Charm is deceptive and beauty fleeting;
the woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Give her a reward for her labors,
and let her works praise her at the city gates.

The first word, the kind of lead term here, is the Hebrew word hayil. Hayil means strong or capable. We might say she’s independent and well-skilled in her work, whatever her work may be. She doesn’t loaf around, gossiping, she doesn’t slack off and do the minimum, with sloppiness and carelessness.

The second virtue is that she is faithful: “the heart of her husband trusts in her.” So, they are a strong team. Again, she’s not gossiping about him, she’s honest and faithful. They depend on each other, and work with love and devotion to build each other up, including in how they speak of one another to others.

The next characteristic is the one that links with the parable, that she is diligent. She’s hard-working. She “seeks wool and flax”, she “works with willing hands”, she “puts her hand to the distaff”, in other words she’s not idle. In ancient Israel, women worked very, very hard. They worked primarily in the domestic sphere, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t have an important role. She’s managing the home resources, she’s making quality clothing so her family is dressed well, and warm, and this represents them, and her, honorably and well.

Another virtue, the fifth one here, is generosity. “She reaches out her hands to the poor and extends her arms to the needy.” With her virtue and industriousness, and that of her husband, thanks to the efficient running of the household, they can generously give to the poor who ask for alms.

And then lastly, it says, “Charm is deceptive and beauty fleeting; the woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. Give her a reward for her labors, and let her works praise her at the city gates.” So her faith and her holiness are the engine that drives her virtue, and her virtue, as well as her reputation for the quality of her work, and her generosity, and the praise from her family, earn her the respect and praise of the people of the city.

You can imagine why this scripture has been so appreciated over the centuries. While the secular society is praising the exploits of heroes and superstars, here we have the more noble praise of an unsung hero, the beautifully holy ordinary person.


The second reading, finishes out our series of readings from Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians. But here’s where we get the other half of our theme for today: “…You yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief at night. When people are saying, ‘Peace and security,’ then sudden disaster comes upon them… We are not of the night or of darkness. Therefore, let us not sleep as the rest do, but let us stay alert and sober.” In our gospel reading on Friday, Jesus reminded us that in the days of Noah, and the days of Lot, people were just going about the hustle and bustle of everyday life, right up to the sudden catastrophe, that they should have seen coming. Here, Paul, like Jesus, is reminding us that the master will return at an unknown time, and suddenly, and we best have our lamps lit and ready, with virtue and the fruits of virtue, at all times. A while ago we talked about the Latin phrase, “memento mori,” remember death. And we remember by living in such a manner that we’re always ready, with a pure conscience, with faith and virtue, and a generous life.



That was the end of the homily. But I want to connect that with some recent thoughts that God has been giving me to roll around in my brain. You know how I love conceptual connections!

In last week’s homily, we talked about the material offered by Dr. Andrew Jones, and the Catholic view of society being more the image of a family (albeit, with its difficulties), with relationships based on charity and virtue, rather than the image of constant conflict held in check by a leviathan authority of policy and enforcement. I appreciate all the positive responses that homily received. Dr. Jones went on to develop that idea that the improvement of society lies not in better laws, better politics (which, again, in the Catholic worldview, is impossibly bad, because you can’t sufficiently legislate people to be good except by narrower and narrower legislative restriction of freedom, and because the use of political compulsion is by nature a failure of personal charity and virtue), but rather the development of individual responsibility, character, and virtue. It’s odd to imagine a society growing in holiness, but if the people who make up the society are intentional about growing in holiness, that’s what society is.

Then I ran across this video from Dennis Prager (with Jordan Peterson, who I admire). Now I agree with a lot of what Prager says in the 2nd half of the video, but he’s much too partisan for me to share in good conscience. Because my goal is the hope of reconciliation, or at least civility, of right and left, as well as merging the best of both (and the vices of neither), into an even better option. Here’s the video, and you’ll see why I found it interesting (and possibly why I found it imprudent to post without such a disclaimer):

And I was thinking about, wow, that matches up really well with my previous homily. And I kept thinking about that analysis. Now I do disagree that the left en masse excuse themselves from personal improvement by waving the flags of societal improvement, and that the right is the opposite. Both do both, although generally there seems to be some truth to what he says. And as I was thinking about that, and talking it over, I got ready for the next daily reading homily, which was from St. Paul’s letter to Titus (2:1-7):

Beloved:
You must say what is consistent with sound doctrine,
namely, that older men should be temperate, dignified,
self-controlled, sound in faith, love, and endurance.
Similarly, older women should be reverent in their behavior,
not slanderers, not addicted to drink,
teaching what is good, so that they may train younger women
to love their husbands and children,
to be self-controlled, chaste, good homemakers,
under the control of their husbands,
so that the word of God may not be discredited.
Urge the younger men, similarly, to control themselves,
showing yourself as a model of good deeds in every respect…

There you see exactly what Dennis Prager and Andrew Jones have been talking about! Yes, of course, we have to publicly and collectively advocate for correcting the societal problems, such as abortion, political corruption, prejudice, etc. But the real key is personal virtue. And I say “virtue” instead of “values” because values are personal and subjective, while virtues are objective and objectively good (there’s probably a whole lot more to write on that!). Your *values* should be *virtuous*.

I think back to the message that Abby Johnson gave (quite passionately) here in Lancaster a few years ago: not just to end abortion, but to make it unthinkable. We’re not going to end abortion by making it illegal; we’re only going to end it by changing the people (and their situations) of those who would seek one. The changing of hearts is the key, not the changing of laws. Of course, good laws and public policy do help. If pregnancy centers who provide support for women and families in crisis pregnancies got as much (or more) government and donated resources as abortion providers got, that would go a long way not only to ending abortion, but also to providing for the needs of the poor and vulnerable, and everybody wins (except the abortion providers).

I would also posit that the right is guilty a bit about what Dr. Prager accuses the left of: putting too much emphasis on societal systems, problems, and corrections (fixing the errors of others), while arguing, defending, and reacting to others with a scandalizing lack of virtue, particularly for a Christian advocating for the need for a more virtuously correct society. I see Christians being more enthusiastically Republican than Christian. I would include in this spreading unfounded insults, conspiracy theories, and other accusations and/or logical fallacies, that by reason one should not go so far as to assert. I have attempted to address some of these unvirtuous displays by conservatives, to have their vitriol turned on me. Of course that doesn’t affect me, because I don’t care what they think about me. But it does affect me in that they continue to negatively affect the public reputation and character of the same labels–such as Catholic, conservative, and even clergy–that fit me as well.

And so my battle cry is bolstered mightily by these recent reflections and insights into the Catholic worldview and virtue: Take part in the social-political arena, but do so as a Catholic, meaning, acting with Catholic virtues, reason, and charity (or if you’re not Catholic, at least do so virtuously). We can’t win the battles and lose our souls. That hearkens back even to the few homilies before this, in talking about rendering unto God what is of God, putting God first, and being society’s good servant by being God’s first.

God bless you!