32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A) (go to readings)
Wisdom 6:12-16
Psalm 63:2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-8
1st Thessalonians 4:13-18
Matthew 25:1-13

So I’m not going to talk about politics. Yay.

But I do want to talk about… talking about politics. I recently re-listened to a recording of an interview I remembered pieces of, that I remembered being very good, and on listening to it again, it was still very good. So, this time I typed it out and posted it, so that I could search the text of it in the future. The interview was between Matthew Leonard, who runs his blog called the Art of Catholic, and a Church history professor named Dr. Andrew Jones, and the topic was about the relationship, or the modern errors of the relationship, between Church and State. And so, the combination of having this rolling around in my brain, and our present political situation, and some recent conversations, and today’s readings, suggested that this might be a good little reflection for today. [link to interview]

I want to just take a dip into the beginning of modern history, at least as we’ve been taught about it, about the time of the so-called Enlightenment (which it wasn’t, really). And what we’ve been taught is that as the European kingdoms started emerging, and the Catholic Church, which was already fifteen centuries old and the dominant power in Europe, there was this violent tension of political power between the ecclesiastical power of the Church and the national power of the kingdoms. And at the same time there was the religious splintering of the so-called Protestant Reformation (which it wasn’t, really), and now different kingdoms had different state religions. And this came to a head in the so-called religious wars, where kings went to war against other kings, and the religion of the kings, and of the kingdoms, got embroiled in the conflicts, so you also had Catholics fighting Protestants, and condemning each other to hell, by death, or at least by excommunication, and it was a bloody mess, literally.

And what came out of this was the emergence of these conceptual categories of religion and belief on the one side, and politics and economics on the other side. And the category of religion and belief was the private thing, and the category of politics and economics was the public thing. And this was also being fed by new Enlightenment philosophy, which happened, maybe not by chance, to fit very nicely with Protestant theology, which undermined the public dimension of Christianity, and morphed it (or distorted it), heavily emphasizing the more private, personal, me-and-Jesus aspect of Christianity.

And of course, this is the dichotomy that runs the show today. The religion box can have anything you want, Catholicism, Protestantism, Judaism, Islam, Satanism, or it can be empty, because that box doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that it’s personal opinion, it stays in its box, and it helps you live in the other category, of politics and economics, as a basically good, mostly harmless, productive person. And that’s how you can have Catholic politicians who might be Catholic on Sunday mornings, which is a private thing, but not so far as that means anything to the way that they do their public political thing.

Now I want to jump to an idea that’s developing alongside this. And this is (interestingly) dependent on the Protestant theology of original sin, that humanity after the Fall is completely depraved, corrupt, and utterly incapable of good unless acted on by an outside authority. As the 18^th century Protestant preacher Jonathan Edwards, said, “You contribute nothing to your salvation except the sin that made it necessary.” And so, in the secular philosophy that accompanied this time, you have the emergence of the concept of “The Sovereign,” or (in the writing of Thomas Hobbes) “The Leviathan.” And the concept of the Leviathan is that humanity is in a natural state of war of all against all. And so to escape this, all people implicitly enter into a social contract in which they surrender their capacity to do violence to a single authority, the Leviathan, who had the all-encompassing power to do violence in the name of society. If anyone gets out of line, society can compel that person, with whatever violence is seen fit, to get back in line. There is no area of life in society where the Leviathan, the State, does not have authority. So we can have constitutions and rules for restraining this all-encompassing power, sure. However, the State can also declare a condition in which the constitution and the restraints no longer apply. And as long as it has the power to do that, it has the power to do anything it wants.

But the upshot of that is that it means that the political and economic category has absolute authority over the category of the private and religious. Even the idea of “religious freedom” only extends as far as the political category allows it, and religion has to ask permission for its rights, and has to articulate its arguments and propositions in the terms of the political state, to be considered valid. Otherwise, it is religion venturing out of its box, and the political box will vengefully and forcefully hammer it back into its assigned place.

Take someone like the 17^th century John Locke, for example. John Locke basically defined religion as that category of a person’s life that is a matter of opinion, a matter of personal beliefs (if I had a nickel for every time a religious teaching was called “your opinion”). And what defines it as that, is that it doesn’t have social consequences. So, for example John Locke is all about religious liberty… but not for Catholics. Why? Because he’ll argue that Catholicism isn’t really a religion. Catholicism is political. Because Catholicism makes demands outside the private box of religion and extends into the realm of politics and society. And so that makes it political, by definition, not religious.

And there’s truth to that, a lot of truth to that. Catholicism doesn’t play by the rules imposed by modernist society. Because Catholicism predates those rules and comes from a time when those categories of church and state didn’t exist, and therefore they didn’t exist in conflict. The world was seen as sacramental: the visible realm of Creation sings of the glory of God. The visible reality of the kingdom of man was a sign of the invisible reality of the kingdom of God. And the role of the kingdom of man was to participate in the kingdom of God, in enacting truth and wisdom, in preserving peace and justice, and correcting the wrong doer with the hope of repentance and reconciliation. The Catholic worldview does not match up with the modernist worldview. And that’s because we don’t share the foundational assumptions on which modernism is built. We don’t believe that humanity is completely corrupted and depraved, and absolutely requiring external force for us to play nicely. And we don’t believe that the natural state of humanity is absolute conflict. We believe that humanity is wounded by sin, and in need of grace and guidance. And we believe that the social structure of humanity is naturally more closely related to a family with difficulties, rather than an all-out war of all against all. And so the solution, in the Catholic worldview, is the flourishing of the intrinsic virtues of faith, hope, and charity, and all the natural virtues. Lead humans to rule themselves with internal virtue, and the need for an imposing, external political power, like a race for control of the government, recedes. In this view, the political solution is a failure of the real solution of charity, because politics is by definition resorting to external force (up to the use of violence), rather than the fruit of internal virtuous choice for charity. There’s no violence in the kingdom of God, and so the (need for the) use of violence in the kingdom of man is always when man has failed to manifest the kingdom of God. The goal is for the need for politics, the compulsion of external law, to recede, as the internal law of charity prevails, as it should in a family.

So that’s where we connect back to our readings. Our gospel reading about always being vigilant for the unknown hour of judgment, with the lamp of faith, fueled by the oil of the spiritual and corporal acts of mercy, which fuels the life of faith, and allows its light to shine and shed its light on the world. At first glance we might question why the wise virgins didn’t share their oil. But if indeed the oil, as many ancient commentators on the gospels agree, represents the righteous deeds of the faithful, then these can’t be shared. Each person is responsible and required to bring to judgment their own witness of the life of faith and good works. And if their light isn’t shining when the Bridegroom comes unexpectedly, the door will be closed and locked against them. Not because of the unkindness of the wise, but because of the failure of the foolish. If your parents or grandparents were righteous and faithful, their good deeds can’t add fuel to your lamp. All they can do is give you their example of the wisdom to tend to your own lamp and its oil. Our faith is not restricted to the box of going to church on Sunday mornings, this private dimension that has no social/political relevance. It’s putting our faith into works, private and public, into worship, but also generously working for the common good and speaking out and working against evil in the public world. We who call ourselves and identify as Catholics are called and obligated to work in the kingdom of man in economics, politics, business, education, whatever vocation God gives you, as a Catholic fruitfully faithful to the Magisterium of the Catholic Church. This is not a controversial statement, and neither is it negotiable.

This being watchful and vigilant is also the theme of our first reading: vigilant for divine wisdom to guide the way, to shine in the darkness of confusion. And not only being vigilant for wisdom, but actively seeking wisdom: “Resplendent and unfading is wisdom, and she is readily perceived by those who love her; and found by those who seek her. She hastens to make herself known in anticipation of their desire… For taking thought of wisdom is the perfection of prudence.” There’s the connection of wisdom and action, or virtue.

So, we covered a lot of ground today, and that was my goal. Principally, to show that there is no real separation of religion and politics in the Catholic faith. We can talk about political obligations in Church, and must live our Church obligations in the political world. We have the divine obligation to live the self-revelation of the truth, the way, and the life; to be vigilant and actively seeking the wisdom of God, requiring us then to apply that wisdom in private and public acts of religious worship and political-economic life. And stemming from that obligation to live our faith publicly, politically, and economically, comes the natural right to do so, whether the secular, modernist society likes it or not, or permits it or not. It doesn’t matter which Caesar sits on the throne. We must render unto God what is of God… which is everything.

All Saints Day (Year A) (go to the readings)
Revelation 7:2-4, 9-14
Psalm 24:1bc-2, 3-4ab, 5-6
1 John 3:1-3
Matthew 5:1-12a

The feast of All Saints’ Day goes back at least to the 4^th century. It was mentioned in the writings of several of the early Church Fathers. It honors the multitude of the faithful, known and unknown, who enjoy the heavenly bliss of being in the blessed communion of God for all eternity. Many of the saints in heaven we know by name, and we know something of their story. Some of them have feast days that we celebrate, some of them aren’t assigned a day, and an untold number we don’t even know.

We’re very blessed here in this parish, as our beautiful stained glass windows are filled with the images of the saints. Many of the traditional images of saints have some unique feature that helps us to identify them, such as Saint Agnes holding a lamb, Saint George slaying the dragon, Saint Cecilia playing on an organ, and so on. But more importantly, our windows help us to remember, first, that the saints are surrounding us with prayers and intercession, the great cloud of witnesses who were victorious in their struggle, who embrace us as we gather here in the name of Christ, just as they did in their time; and second, that in the spiritual reality that we cannot see, that the saints are celebrating the sacraments of the Church with us, as we all participate in the one great feast of heaven and earth: the marriage supper of the Lamb and the Bride, which is the spiritual reality of the Mass.

Our first reading for today’s feast comes from the Book of Revelation, that mysterious, mystic last book of the bible. “I, John, saw another angel come up from the East, holding the seal of the living God.” What do you do with a seal? You mark—you seal—something as yours by your authority. “Do not damage the land or the sea or the trees until we put the seal on the foreheads of the servants of our God.” Now this Christian prophecy is very cool, because it’s one of the 700 or 800 references that the Book of Revelation makes to images in the Old Testament. In this case, it’s a reference to Ezekiel, chapter 9, which says, “And there were six men coming from the direction of the upper gate which faces north, each with a weapon of destruction in his hand. In their midst was a man dressed in linen, with a scribe’s case at his waist. They entered and stood beside the bronze altar. Then the glory of the God of Israel moved off the cherub and went up to the threshold of the temple. He called to the man dressed in linen with the scribe’s case at his waist, and the LORD said to him: ‘Pass through the city, through the midst of Jerusalem, and mark an X on the foreheads of those who grieve and lament over all the abominations practiced within it.’” In this translation of the bible, it says to mark an X. But in the Hebrew, it says, to mark with a Tov, which is a letter of the Hebrew alphabet, which, in the ancient form of Hebrew, looked like a little cross. And in Ezekiel, it describes the glory cloud of the Lord leaving the temple, and the temple is going to be destroyed along with the rest of Jerusalem. But those of the faithful who lament the abominations—the faithlessness and corruption—of Jerusalem, they will be marked to be saved.

Fast forward back to our first reading here from Revelation, (“back to the future”), the reality is the same: a small cross being placed on the foreheads of the faithful servants of God—that same little cross that’s placed on the forehead at baptism, and again at confirmation, and is the more ancient way that Christians typically signed themselves with the sign of the cross—are sealed by the Spirit as belonging to God, and they will be saved.

“I heard the number of those who had been marked with the seal, one hundred and forty-four thousand marked from every tribe of the children of Israel.” Numbers are always interesting in the bible. It’s 12, the number of tribes of Israel, times 12, the number of Apostles, times 1000, the number of fullness, like a thousand years. 144,000…. From the every tribe of the children of Israel. So this is a symbolic number of the Jews who come to Christ, those who participate in the fulfillment of all the old testament covenants and promises about the Messiah and the restoration of Israel. “After this I had a vision of a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue.” Now we see great multitude of the gentiles, the pagan converts to Christ and their descendants from all over the rest of the world through the end of time… a great multitude which no one can count. So, the saints in heaven aren’t only 144,000, it’s a great uncountable, multitude.

“Then one of the elders spoke up and said to me, ‘Who are these wearing white robes, and where did they come from?’ I said to him, ‘My lord, you are the one who knows.’ He said to me, ‘These are the ones who have survived the time of great distress; they have washed their robes and made them white in the Blood of the Lamb.’” Now, I’m not one for doing laundry. But I do know that you don’t make something white by washing it in blood. But we’re not just talking about blood—we’re talking about the blood of the Lamb! And the Blood of the Lamb washes us clean of the dirt of this world: sin, and death. Those who are washed in the baptismal bath of the paschal mystery—the power of the forgiveness of sins earned by Christ in his crucifixion and resurrection—are those whose spiritual garments have no stain or blemish. When we’re baptized, we clothe the newly baptized in a white robe: an alb (which just means “white” in Latin). Symbolically, all of us who are baptized could be wearing these white garments, and holding our baptismal candles, and singing the praises of God. “Holy, Holy Holy! Lord God of hosts! Salvation comes from our God, who is seated on the throne, and from the Lamb! Blessing and glory, wisdom and thanksgiving, honor, power, and might be to our God forever and ever!” That’s heaven. And that’s the Mass. It’s the same celebration. Practically speaking, we don’t have everyone wear white, but we do see it in the vestments of the priest and deacon, who wear the white alb beneath their liturgical vestments, and our altar servers, and other ministers, when we have them. And what are these white garments? They’re the wedding garments! Because the Mass is a wedding, the wedding feast of the Lamb and the Bride, and we, the Church, are the Bride of Christ, as Saint Paul tells us. If we jump forward in the Book of Revelation, to chapter 19, we read, “Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory. For the wedding day of the Lamb has come, his bride has made herself ready. She was allowed to wear a bright, clean linen garment. (The linen represents the righteous deeds of the holy ones.) Then the angel said to me, ‘Write this: Blessed are those who have been called to the wedding feast of the Lamb.’” That last part should sound familiar, because the priest says it right before communion.

We might remember, a few weeks ago, the man who was chastised by the king for being at the wedding without a wedding garment, in a parable by Jesus in the Gospel reading. This man was called to the wedding (as we all are) but he did not have a wedding garment, and he was thrown into the darkness outside. Many are called, but only those who bear the clean garment are chosen to abide and share in the feast. The garment washed clean by the Blood of the Lamb is from our vertical relationship of love with God; the clean white garment of righteous deeds is from our horizontal relationship of love with neighbor. We get into the feast of the kingdom by the cross. We saw that last week. See, it’s all connected.

The saintly, holy Christian life that we’re called to is given to us in the paradox of the beatitudes. Blessed (or truly happy) are those whose lives are marked with this image given in the Beatitudes, because it, too, is the image of the cross. Jesus gives us the beatitudes as a sort of self-portrait: the Beatitudes describe his example of what living the kingdom looks like in human virtues. “Blessed are the poor in spirit… Blessed are the meek… Blessed are the clean of heart… Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness…” And it’s the paradox of the cross, because the first part of each beatitude involves suffering (at least suffering our purification to more perfectly embody these virtues), and the second part of each beatitude involves a spiritual fulfillment, a grace. The more we embrace the cross, the more we reflect spiritual glory. The cross, of course, is our dying to our human sinfulness, error, and ugliness, as we unite ourselves more and more with divine truth, goodness, and beauty. As Fr. Mike Schmitz recently said, “Saints are ruthless in saying no to sin, and relentless in saying yes to God.”

So today, the Church gives us this beautiful feast of All Saints—not just all the saints known and unknown in heaven—yes, that’s the main focus—but also all the saints on here earth, the holy ones, in a single holy communion with God and with the saints in heaven (the one and entire mystical body of Christ; the communion of the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church); who are sealed with the sign of the cross; who love God, and show it through their love of neighbor; who seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness; who render unto God what belongs to God; who unite themselves with the paradox of the beatitudes, accepting the temporal suffering of the cross, for the eternal glory of the resurrection.

“Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.”

From the prayer of the faithful for today’s Mass:

For our nation:
     May the upcoming election be completed with integrity and honesty,
     may the response to the election be peaceful and safe,
     and may the candidate elected serve the common good with honor and
     compassion.
          Let us pray to the Lord.

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A) (link to readings)
Exodus 22:20-26
Psalm 18:2-3, 3-4, 47, 51
1 Thessalonians 1:5c-10
Matthew 22:34-40

Today’s Gospel reading connects beautifully to the readings we’ve had the last few weeks. What is the greatest commandment? “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment.” In other words, render unto God what belongs to God. We can be Caesar’s good servants because we are God’s first. All these are different ways Jesus is reminding us of that first and greatest commandment: First, things first, and God is always first, in every way, with all of our being.

How do we respond and comply to this first and greatest command? By keeping the Lord’s Day holy and set apart. By actively participating in the holy sacrifice of prayer and worship that is the Mass, on all Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation. By daily and frequent prayer and reading with the holy scriptures. By praying the rosary and participating in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament as much as reasonably possible. By tithing our income. By volunteering and participating in the Church’s ministries, groups, and events. By living one’s life in perfect conformity with the truth God reveals to us in his word and his Church. And by regularly reconciling with God and his Church through the Sacrament of Reconciliation whenever one falls into mortal sin. Essentially, uniting your will, your mind, your heart, your soul, to God through Jesus in the Holy Spirit. Do that, and you will live.

In Jesus’ time, it was common for scholars of the law, the scribes, to test an unknown rabbi and their interpretation of the law by asking them to choose which of the hundreds of laws was the most important. Jesus didn’t quote any of those hundreds of laws. He quoted the Shema, the verse of Deuteronomy that faithful Jews recited three times every day, which everyone knew, the way we know the Our Father. The full text of the Shema says, “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD; and you shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. And these words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart; and you shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. And you shall bind them as a sign upon your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. And you shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.” In other words, filling one’s life with God’s presence and truth at all times, in all places, in all conversations, including diligently passing this on to the children of each generation. Just as the Our Father is the perfect prayer, the Shema is the perfect commandment.

Then Jesus goes one step more. He gives us the practical application of this perfect commandment, the way for us to fulfill it in the way we live and witness our love for God. He says: “The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

Ah, there’s the rub. As Saint John says in his first letter, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ but hates his brother, he is a liar; for whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. This is the commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother.”

Jesus took his first commandment from the Shema in the Book of Deuteronomy, and he takes his second commandment from the book of Leviticus: “Take no revenge and cherish no grudge against your own people. You shall love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD.” I’ll remind you that when Jesus was asked, “Who is my neighbor?” his response was the parable of the Good Samaritan, showing that we are called to show mercy to everyone: in a liberal, not a restrictive, interpretation of the words “neighbor,” and “your own people.”

So what does that look like, for us as the people of God? It looks like our first reading. We go back to the 2^nd book of the bible, Exodus, in a scene in which Moses has just come down from the mountain of God with the ten commandments, and he is instructing the people in the moral code that is to be the law of Israel. It is the Torah, the great gift that sets Israel apart for the divine wisdom of their law. God connects his law with Israel’s recent experience in Egypt, as strangers in another people’s land, vulnerable, and dependent upon others for their survival.

“Thus says the LORD: ‘You shall not molest or oppress an alien, for you were once aliens yourselves in the land of Egypt.” Immigrants have a humanity, a human dignity, that morally must be honored, under all circumstances. There is great risk and suffering in attempting to settle your family (or just part of your family) in a new country for a new life, assimilating into a new culture and community. They–and the people of the nation they’re looking to for hope–need better than a broken, inhumane system. Our national immigration policy hasn’t been sufficiently updated or funded, and it needs to be fixed as an urgent priority. But immigrants, aliens, asylum seekers, are of particular concern of God and his people, because they are vulnerable, in a position of weakness and need of protection, affirmation, and hospitality. And it is an act of divine love to welcome them and support them.

You may remember a situation in 2015, when (after an ACLU lawsuit) Catholic Charities was eliminated from the government's program of temporarily housing and caring for immigrants because Catholic Charities did not include access to abortion in the healthcare offered to its refugee/immigrant residents. This example, and that of Catholic Charities pulling out of the adoption services in Illinois' adoption program because it refused to adopt children to same-sex couples, illustrates the difficult dynamic of faith-based providers (adhering to their faith) working with (and receiving funding from) government social services.

“You shall not wrong any widow or orphan. If ever you wrong them and they cry out to me, I will surely hear their cry. My wrath will flare up, and I will kill you with the sword; then your own wives will be widows, and your children orphans.” What is this? Social injustice, systemic dependency, racial prejudice, unlivable wages, systemic poverty, unaffordable or unavailable medical and mental healthcare. These are all issues described by the US Bishops as grave sins against the dignity of human life. We cannot address these issues with any flavor of Socialism or Communism, which the Church has clearly condemned for their systemic sins against human dignity. We can never solve a sinful problem with a sinful solution. And the government is not necessarily the best way for these problems to be solved. But there would be no outcry for Socialism if these problems were to be solved voluntarily, without the need for the government to compel by legislation.

And the last one from our reading, “If you lend money to one of your poor neighbors among my people, you shall not act like an extortioner toward him by demanding interest from him.” To me this might sound a bit like the cry of those trapped under decades of student loan payments, looking for hope. I get that students willingly agreed to take out these loans, and we can say that their consequences are just. But also remember that their oppressive student loan debt is a factor in their cohabiting and putting off marriage, delaying having children by using contraception and abortion, and the general despair, depression, and outcry about economic inequality. A lot of moral problems we lament could be greatly helped by finding a merciful solution to this problem. And that applies to many of the issues the bishops outlined in their document on forming consciences according to Catholic social teaching. Absolutely, abortion is the most urgent and egregious issue. But while we combat that issue, we must also combat the myriad other issues of systemic injustice and sin that infect our society and violate Catholic social teaching. Again, I encourage you to read the Bishops’ document if you haven’t done so yet.

Lastly, this social dimension, the second commandment of Jesus, takes on a particular importance in the Christian covenant. Not only does our neighbor bear the image of God in his or her humanity, but through baptism, our neighbor is our brother or sister in Christ. The poor and vulnerable come to us as Christ our brother, in need of our compassion. What you did (or did not do) for one of these, the least of my brothers, you did (or did not do) for me. And so because our neighbor is Jesus who has come to us in need, and because Jesus is God, this two-fold commandment folds back up into a single commandment of love: love for our neighbor is love for God, and justice denied to our neighbor is justice denied to God.

To love ourselves is to desire for ourselves justice, freedom, dignity, affirmation, kindness, truth, and salvation through Christ. And to love our neighbor as ourselves is to bring our desire for them to have that into our desire for our ourselves to have that, because they are united to us in Christ.

The cross is the center of our faith. The horizontal, social dimension, and the vertical, transcendent dimension, meet and are united in Christ. We are called to reach out in mercy to others, in Christ, because God has reached out in mercy to us, in Christ. We are our neighbors’—our brothers’ and sisters’—good servants, because we are God’s first.

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)
Isaiah 45:4-6
Psalm 96:1, 3, 4-5, 7-8, 9-10
1st Thessalonians 1:1-5b
Matthew 22:15-21

I have made it a habit, in the weeks leading up to a presidential election, to make reference to the US Bishops’ document on forming consciences for faithful citizenship, which I gave to you in the homily two weeks ago. I decided to do it early this year, to give you more time to consider its wisdom, and to give you more time to read the document for yourself, and so that you would experience more of the political rhetoric leading up to the election through the lens of the gospel. It might have been an inspired choice, because I’m glad that through the lens of that wisdom, we can also reflect on today’s readings.

In our first reading, from the old testament prophet Isaiah, we have an oracle from God to the Persian king Cyrus. The Persians had defeated the Babylonians while Israel was enduring their Babylonian Exile. So it was the Persians who freed Israel to return back to their homeland. Cyrus was obviously not an Israelite, not one of God’s holy people. But God tells Cyrus that he is God’s anointed, that it was God who lifted him up to his lofty position, so that God might direct him for the sake of God’s people, Israel, and so that through Cyrus, even though Cyrus did not know God, that God would be glorified through him. Now that is not to suggest any candidate as a modern parallel to Cyrus, so please don’t infer that. But it is to affirm that God can work through people, even those who are not faithful to him, even national leaders, to accomplish his own divine purposes. But he can accomplish more through those who are open to his guidance, and less through those who reject his guidance. So regardless of who is elected, we need to pray for them to seek and obey divine wisdom, that even with their personal vices, our nation might be blessed through their leadership.

Our psalm for today brings out a different aspect of our first reading: Israel’s development of God’s absolute divinity. In the beginning, Israel believed in God as their own national and cultic God, one among many gods. That gave way to understanding God as the greatest of all gods, the supreme god. Today we see the final revelation that God is in truth unique in his divinity. God the only God, the creator, and there are no other gods. He makes that clear in our first reading, and again in the psalm. When we pray in the creed, we believe in One God, we echo this faith, and then we begin the Eucharist by our offering of the gifts of blessing to the Lord God of all creation.

Our gospel reading is, as always, the highpoint of the liturgy of the word. “‘Show me the coin that pays the census tax.’ Then they handed him the Roman coin. He said to them, ‘Whose image is this and whose inscription?’ They replied, ‘Caesar’s.’ At that he said to them, ‘Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar…’” The Roman emperor owned all the coins. They bore his image, his likeness. They had his inscription: “Tiberius Caesar, Son of The Divine Augustus, Great High Priest.” Jesus didn’t allow himself to be dragged down into the “us vs. them” squabble of whether or not to pay the Roman tax. He tossed off his divinely clever escape from that trap: “then give back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar.” Then in an even greater move, he elevates their focus above the question of secular obligation, to divine obligation: “But render unto God what is God’s.”

The inscription on the coin, again, said, “Tiberius Caesar, Son of The Divine Augustus, Great High Priest.” Son of the Divine. Great High Priest. They were more concerned about the authority of the one who sat enthroned in the Roman capital, than they were about the authority of the one who was supposed to be sitting enthroned over their hearts, the true Son of the Divine, the true Great High Priest. They were more concerned about the inscription of the words of Caesar on the coin, than they were about the inscription of the law of God on their hearts. They were more concerned with the one whose image the coin was made in, than they were about the one whose image they themselves were made in.

In many languages, there is no possessive “apostrophe s” like in English. In those other languages they would say “God’s” as “of God.” The Spanish, for example, for “Give to God what is God’s” would be closer to “Give it to God, that which is of God.” (Dale a dios lo que es de dios). We are “of God,” made by him, in his own image and likeness. As it says in Psalm 100, “He made us, we belong to him.”

Our lesson is perhaps best summed up in Jesus’ words earlier in the Gospel of Matthew: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you besides.” In other words, we tend to be more mindful of taking care of our secular obligations first, and then we let that dictate how we take care of our spiritual obligations. We define ourselves by our pleasures, preferences, opinions, and secular ideologies, and then judge Christ and the Church in relation to all that—rather than the other way around. To seek first the kingdom of God, to render unto God what belongs to God, is to begin with Christ and the Church, and then to discipline our pleasures, preferences, opinions, and secular ideologies, based on that. And not only that, but as Jesus said, when we seek first the kingdom of God, all these other things will be given to you besides. When we render unto God what belongs to God, it gives us greater clarity in where our obligation lies in rendering unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar. When we seek first the kingdom of God, we become in truth better citizens of the kingdom of Caesar. Not always in the way that Caesar would like, when Caesar would like to act sinfully, but in the way that helps us to understand and advocate for divine truth, goodness, and authentic love, against human ignorance, error, and intrinsic evil.

One of the great classic movies of contemporary Catholic Tradition, up there with “The Bells of Saint Mary’s,” “The Scarlet and the Black,” “Becket,” and Alfred Hitchcock’s “I Confess,” is the movie, “A Man for All Seasons.” It’s the story of Saint Thomas More, who was the High Chancellor of England in the 16^th century, under King Henry VIII. When Henry was unable to get an annulment for his marriage to his wife, Catherine, so that he could divorce her and marry Ann Boleyn, Henry confiscated Catholic-held properties in England and established the Church of England (or “Anglican” Church), with the monarch, Henry himself, as the head of the Church. For those who were faithfully Catholic, like Thomas More, this became a profound problem.

As part of this scheme, he required all those in political posts to sign the “Oath of Supremacy,” which declared, first, Henry as head of the Church in England, and second, that his marriage to Catherine was void. Thomas More refused to sign. There is a wonderful line in the movie, in which Henry implores Thomas to support him, as Henry says, not just because Thomas is honest, but because he’s known to be honest. Henry needs a man of Thomas’ intellect, character, integrity, and reputation to lend validity to his claim, and Thomas, because of his intellect, character, and integrity, which has earned him his reputation, will not do so. So Thomas was stripped of his title, imprisoned, tried and convicted with a corrupt key witness, and executed for treason.

It might be interesting to mention that St. Thomas More was the favorite saint of the faithfully Catholic Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, who wore a replica of St. Thomas More’s iconic hat to the 2^nd inauguration of President Obama—Scalia, then, being the mentor to the faithfully Catholic Supreme Court Justice nominee Amy Coney Barrett, who has shown herself to be similar to Thomas More in intellect, character, integrity, and reputation. Thomas More never said he rejected the king’s political authority. He simply refused to call true what was not true. At his execution, Thomas More announced, “I die the king’s good servant, but God’s first.” In the beautiful homily for the funeral of Justice Scalia, his son, Fr. Paul Scalia, made reference to his father’s affection for St. Thomas More, by saying “Dad understood that the deeper he went in his Catholic faith, the better a citizen and public servant he became. God blessed him with the desire to be the country’s good servant because he was God’s first.”

We cannot restrict our religious fidelity based on our political views. Rather our religious fidelity raises up and purifies our political views. We render well what is Caesar’s unto Caesar, because we render first what is God’s unto God. We are able, then, to be our country’s good servants, when we are God’s first.

In just over a month, we will be voting for the next president of the United States (and of course, other elected offices as well). As I did in 2016, I would like to provide some insight from a document from the United States Bishops Conference called, “Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship.” It presents the key points of the Church’s teaching of faith and morals as they relate to current social and political issues. I am not going to tell you who to vote for. Your homework is to learn more about each of these issues, and then to learn more about each candidate, and then to use your vote in accord with Church Teaching and a well-formed conscience. I put a link to the document on the parish website, and I highly encourage everyone to read it.

I want to start with this unfortunately long quote: “Catholics often face difficult choices about how to vote. This is why it is so important to vote according to a well-formed conscience that perceives the proper relationship among moral goods. A Catholic cannot vote for a candidate who favors a policy promoting an intrinsically evil act, such as abortion, euthanasia, assisted suicide, deliberately subjecting workers or the poor to subhuman living conditions, redefining marriage in ways that violate its essential meaning, or racist behavior, if the voter’s intent is to support that [intrinsically evil policy]. In such cases, a Catholic would be guilty of formal cooperation in grave evil. At the same time, a voter should not use a candidate’s opposition to an intrinsic evil to justify indifference or inattentiveness to other important moral issues involving human life and dignity. There may be times when a Catholic who rejects a candidate’s unacceptable position—even on policies promoting an intrinsically evil act—may reasonably decide to vote for that candidate for other morally grave reasons. Voting in this way would be permissible only for truly grave moral reasons, not to advance narrow interests or partisan preferences or to ignore a fundamental moral evil. When all candidates hold a position that promotes an intrinsically evil act, the conscientious voter faces a dilemma. The voter may decide to take the extraordinary step of not voting for any candidate or, after careful deliberation, may decide to vote for the candidate deemed less likely to advance such a morally flawed position and more likely to pursue other authentic human goods… This is not to bring a ‘Catholic interest’ to the political sphere, it is to insist that the truth of the dignity of the human person, as discovered by reason and confirmed by revelation, be at the forefront of all political considerations.”

I want to elaborate on that quote, because it sets up the Catholic struggle of voting in modern American politics. First, it says it is morally acceptable to vote for a candidate whose position includes a morally grave and intrinsic evil. But there are two required essential conditions. The first is that someone voting for that candidate has to be voting for them despite that morally grave evil, not because of it. You can’t promote a position that is incompatible with Catholic teaching on any grave moral issue, and you can’t vote for a candidate in order to promote a morally grave evil. The second condition is that you can vote for a candidate who promotes a morally grave evil only for truly grave moral reasons, and not just because of other issues of less moral gravity.

Next thing about this quote is when all candidates’ positions embrace morally grave evils, then what? Then there are three options. First, you choose not to vote and cooperate with grave moral evil. Second, you find a third-party candidate whose position is more morally acceptable. Or third, you vote for the candidate who is less likely to actually promote the morally grave evil aspect of their policy, and more likely to accomplish more positive aspects of their platform.

And lastly, concerning this quote, is that it is not a matter of “well, this is what I believe, but I can’t make that choice for others.” If something is good or bad, true or not true, it applies to all humanity. It isn’t that the Church teaches that some moral truths only apply to Catholics. It’s that the Church teaches it’s evil and harmful for all humanity. Others may not be culpable for the evil of their sin, out of ignorance, but they are still wounded by the effect of the sin. The truth sets you free, and lies ensnare you, whether you believe them or not.

The paramount issue is the dignity of human life. And the primary issue regarding the dignity of human life is abortion, “the deliberate killing of a human being before birth, which is never morally acceptable and must always be opposed.” This is distinct from delicate surgical procedures when a pregnancy becomes life-threatening. In that case, morally, the lives of both the child and mother must be preserved as much as resources and technology allow, and may even involve the near-certainty of the tragic death of the child. But this is not the same as the act whose intentional purpose is to bring about the death of the unborn child. Sometimes euphemistically branded as “women’s healthcare” or “women’s right to choose,” no one has the legitimate moral choice, under any circumstance, to choose what abortion intends to do, either through surgical procedure or a pill. This is not a religious or faith argument, and not exclusively a women’s issue. It’s a human rights issue, and its foundation is in science, biology, and reason. So, any candidate or party that promotes this intrinsic grave evil is morally unacceptable to vote for… unless, in the conditions mentioned above. First, that one chooses such a candidate despite their promotion of abortion, and to do so based on a greater moral issue. However, there is no graver moral issue than abortion that legitimizes voting for such a candidate. Second, that when all reasonable candidates promote an intrinsic grave moral evil, it is acceptable to vote for the candidate less likely to effectively promote the evil, and more likely to promote other issues of grave moral concern.

Other moral issues concerning Catholic Social Teaching are opposition to the death penalty, euthanasia, torture, racism and other unjust discrimination, human cloning, in vitro fertilization (IVF), embryonic stem cell research, and redefining marriage, sexuality, and gender in such a way that distorts their essential nature; and the promotion of the humane treatment of immigrants, prisoners, employees, and the mentally ill; reasonable access to healthcare, food, housing, education and employment; and the protection of the environment, and of religious liberty: to freely and faithfully live out one’s religious convictions in public and professional life.

These are many of the issues, and the document goes into much more necessary detail in explaining these and other issues. I’m assigning it as required homework reading. It’s either that, or I spend the next 10 homilies reading it to you. I thought you’d prefer it this way.

When I finished giving this type of homily leading up to the 2016 election, someone told me that the person behind them had muttered, “Well, that didn’t tell me anything.” I understand. It’s messy and confusing. No candidate is in line with the Catholic Teaching even on grave moral issues, much less all issues. And even if a candidate or party is on the right side of the issue, it doesn’t mean they have a successful strategy to address the issue.

And there’s also a lot going on that’s not strictly political policy, but related to our political and social situation: protests and riots, racial tension, economic uncertainty, COVID-19, corruption, human trafficking, gun control, international tensions, judicial appointments, media bias, pineapple on pizza, and so on.

If I accomplish nothing else in this, I at least want to have laid the groundwork for two things: First, that as the watchman I am appointed to be, I have instructed you in right and wrong, life and death, and it is up you to choose life. And second, that when the dust settles after election day, that we don’t look toward any of our brothers and sisters in the pews with us with any lack charity over who should and shouldn’t have been voted for. And whatever happens, we got this, we stick together, with Christ the King, our true leader, to guide us into his everlasting kingdom. God bless you.

POSTSCRIPT: I know some people have difficulty with some things in here, because they have difficulty with some things the Church teaches, because they struggle or disagree with what the Church teaches, or they have committed an act of sin that gives them a profound sense of shame. Please do not leave the Church. God loves you infinitely, and embraces you with his infinite mercy. If anything discussed here, or anything the Church teaches, is such a difficulty for you that it endangers your relationship with God or His Church, please contact me however is best for you.

POST-POSTSCRIPT: This homily, delivered at the pulpit of a Catholic Church, is the magisterial teaching of the Church (well, maybe not the part about pineapple on pizza). I know there are many resources online from strongly right and left leaning writers and speakers that put things in much starker (or for some, more ambiguous) terms. In my opinion some things are being said from the pulpit are more opinionated than magisterial. I don’t necessarily disagree with what is said, but might disagree that it should be preached. I gave here the teaching as presented by the Bishops of the Church. If you want to know my opinions, in a setting where I am more free to express opinions in terms or interpretations that are not magisterial, I would be more than happy to have that conversation individually.

“The aim of this instruction is love from a pure heart, a good conscience, and a sincere faith. Some people have deviated from these and turned to meaningless talk, wanting to be teachers of the law, but without understanding either what they are saying or what they assert with such assurance” (1 Tim 1:5-7).

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A) (see readings)
Jeremiah 20:7-9
Psalm 63:2, 3-4, 5-6, 8-9
Romans 12:1-2
Matthew 16:21-27

In our readings for this weekend, we see Peter initially reject Jesus’ revelation that the divine plan is for Jesus to suffer and be killed and raised again. Jesus then uses Peter’s rebuke as an opportunity to teach discipleship, which is our share in the mystery of Jesus’ cross: not only will He suffer, but to be His true disciple, we must also deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow Jesus. As St. Paul says in our second reading, our role is not to conform ourselves to the ways of this world, but to offer ourselves as a sacrifice, an oblation, to unite our cross to the self-offering of Jesus. We get a hint of that in the Mass, when we lift up our hearts, we lift them up to the Lord, for it is right and just. We unite our offering of ourselves and our prayers to the sacrifice on the altar, and the priest invites us to pray that God might accept his sacrifice and ours. The Mass isn’t a spectator sport, or a theater show: we’re not an audience, we’ve got work to do! We “offer it up”—we participate in Christ’s redemptive suffering. We can even offer up our suffering through annoying guidelines and rules we have to follow that we might not agree with.

We’ve often heard these terms used: “offering it up”… “redemptive suffering.” So I thought since the readings suggest this theme, we might explore more about what that means. I thought it would work best if I try to illustrate it through a story.

The main character of our story is Rodney. Rodney is a basically good person, who, in our story, gets sick, and needs a kidney donor. So Rodney’s friends decide they’re going to begin a campaign of sacrificial offering, or redemptive suffering, for Rodney in his illness. Every time they endure any suffering, they “offer it up” for Rodney. So how does this work?

So, a few things we need to establish right out of the gate. First: nothing that Rodney’s friends do can earn the forgiveness of Rodney’s sins. Only the grace of the cross and resurrection of Jesus can forgive sins. Second: God loves Rodney more than Rodney’s friends do. So, Rodney’s friends aren’t going to convince God to decide to be nice to Rodney. God is already generously providing for Rodney’s salvation. Third: God knew, from the beginning of time, what Rodney’s friends were going to do on Rodney’s behalf. Rodney’s friends will make their choices by their own free will, but God, who is outside of time, knows what they will do, and includes their choices (all of our choices) in his divine plan. And Fourth: Sin has both eternal and temporal consequences. While only God’s grace can forgive Rodney’s sins and save him from hell (which is the eternal consequence of sin), there are a lot of temporal consequences of sin: attachment to sin, bad habits, wounded relationships; and some of those things can have their own indirect consequences—disease, regret, despair, anger, unforgiveness, etc.

So, Rodney’s friends start offering sacrifices and sufferings for the special intention of Rodney’s healing. Every red light they have to wait through, every stubbed toe, every sleepless night, every ache and pain, every rosary prayed, is offered up for the intention of Rodney’s healing and recovery. I hope we all have friends like that! But what are they accomplishing?

First, let’s look at what Jesus accomplished. As the union of humanity and divinity, Jesus, in the Paschal mystery of his suffering, death, and resurrection, earned for humanity infinitely more grace than humanity could ever possibly need. Jesus didn’t end suffering, as you may have noticed. Instead, he gave suffering meaningfulness and usefulness. He gave it hope, when experienced in love and faith. Pope Saint John Paul II wrote: “In bringing about the Redemption through suffering, Christ raised human suffering to the level of the Redemption. Thus, each man, in his sufferings, can also become a sharer in the redemptive suffering of Christ” (Salvifici Doloris).

Saint Paul said, in his letter to the Colossians, “I find joy in the sufferings I endure for you. In my own flesh I fill up what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ for the sake of His Body, the Church” (Col. 1:24). The sacrifice that Jesus offered on the cross was perfect and infinitely sufficient. But by grace, there’s more to Jesus’ body than what was nailed to the cross, resurrected, and ascended. We, also, are parts of the body of Christ. So as the physical body of Christ endured suffering for the healing of the world, so we as the mystical body of Christ also unite ourselves and our sufferings to him and his suffering on the cross… which not only accomplishes for ourselves a greater unity of ourselves with Jesus, but also makes us part of God’s healing of the world. In one sense, that was accomplished in the past, on Calvary. But in another sense, it continues to unfold until the end of time, through the mystery of Christ’s mystical body, the Church.

God loves his work, and he always invites us to help him in his work, like a Father who invites his children to help him in the garage. The children are sometimes more of an obstacle than a help, but he loves them, loves spending time with them, loves seeing their joy they experience in getting to help with whatever project the Father is doing. He invites us to help in his divine act of Creation (in our work, and in our procreation of children); and he invites us to help in his divine act of Re-creation, in joining our suffering to his, in our loving compassion and service to others. He doesn’t have to work through us. But he has chosen to include us as instruments in His work, in his love for us. He formed us in body and spirit after his image, but it’s in the time we spend with him, and learn from him, and follow his example, that we are conformed to his likeness.

So now that we’ve said all that, we can say a lot more about what Rodney’s friends might accomplish. First, God might really have spared Rodney’s earthly life because of the prayers he knew his friends would freely offer for him. Prayers truly are effective and important. God himself tells us to pray, and how to pray, and that it’s important. We don’t know what our prayers accomplish, but we know by faith that they do work. And perhaps in heaven we will see all the good that was the fruit of our prayers.

In all their prayers for Rodney, his friends spent all those times thinking about him, and not about themselves. They grew in selflessness because of their love. Like Simon of Cyrene, they helped Rodney carry his cross, and in turn, they were blessed for their generosity. Their sufferings became moments of grace. They didn’t see the red lights or achy joints or sleepless nights just as pointless burdens, but as opportunities to put to good use, to fill these parts of their lives with meaningfulness. With all the rosaries they said for Rodney, they grew in their love of the Blessed Mother, and of the mysteries of the Life of Christ.

Their concern for Rodney made its way into their conversations with friends, family, and co-workers. One of these co-workers, going through his own experiences in God’s plan, heard Rodney’s story, got himself tested, was a match for Rodney, and offered to donate his kidney. This of course lifted Rodney from his growing despair, and filled him and his friends with gratitude and hope. The medical staff saw his growing joyfulness, and enjoyed spending more time with him and his needs, and it brightened up their day, especially one who was about to give up on her nursing career because she felt it was all too negative and emotionally draining.

Especially aware of the sacrifices of his friends, Rodney started reading the scriptures more, and growing in faith. He became more open to receive God’s grace and the work of the Holy Spirit in his life.

The young man who was donating his kidney reminded Rodney of his son-in-law, the husband of his estranged daughter, and he decided to call her, and they reconciled.

Before his surgery, he made a powerful confession of his sins to a priest, for the first time in years, and received the sacrament of Anointing of the Sick, and the Eucharist.

In the midst of Rodney’s surgery, the surgeon happened “by chance” to notice a different medical problem that had up then been undetected, and an expert in that field “by chance” was visiting the hospital for another patient, and came in to successfully correct Rodney’s issue. In the weeks of recovery, the doctor said Rodney’s body was healing surprisingly, miraculously, well. He was following the instructions and looking forward to the future.

Having been so moved by all that had happened, Rodney was opened to discerning his vocation as a permanent deacon. In the rest of his fruitful and happy life, his ministry affected and inspired countless numbers of the faithful, particularly in his visits to the hospital, and his own story, and his frequent reminders about offering up suffering for others. Because of the faith of his friends, and the sufferings they offered up for his sake, his sins were forgiven, and he was healed, and made new. And God’s plan of love unfolded superabundantly.

The beautiful Catholic tradition of the morning offering is an expression of what we’ve been talking about. You can find more about the morning offering by clicking here. I might recommend memorizing one of the prayers, or putting it some place you’ll see everyday, like next to the bathroom mirror, or the coffee maker, and make it a part of your morning routine!

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)
1 Kings 19:9a, 11-13a
Psalm 85:9-14
Romans 9:1-5
Matthew 14:22-33

I’ve wanted to talk about the things going on in our society, to help us to digest everything and, ultimately, to frame everything in the context of our primary lens, which is our faith. Every weekend, I do my homily research, and then I look up to the image on the wall in front of me of Christ on the cross, and say, “Ok, tell me what you want to say to your people,” and then I go take the dog for a walk and contemplate. And every week, what comes to me has been about teaching the truth in the readings, such as last week’s focus on the mystery of the Eucharist, and the week before that on being patient, relying on our trust in God that he knows there’s weeds in with the wheat, and he’ll sort it all out in his time. So finally, this week, he said, “This is the week. These are the readings. This is the right framework. Now let’s talk about it.” I’m probably not going to give you all that you want to hear. God doesn’t usually work that way, as you may have noticed.

I’ve never been good at keeping up with the news, and so the news articles shared through social media have been a great help to me. But it’s both a blessing and a curse to have friends across the entire political and social spectrum. I see the news articles that my friends share, because they find them informative and helpful, as the right way to understand the events unfolding, and where events are likely to lead. And they are all over the map.

The difference between right and left news sources isn’t just about the interpretations, they report different realities. And without fail, when I actually take the time to go behind the reporting of an event, I find that both sides have cherry-picked the facts that support the “truth” that they want to report. And so, if you’re following only one side, then there’s a strong temptation (based on what you have read) to uncharitably judge people on the other side as evil, or stupid, or both. The divisive bias of reporting on the issues is its own part of the issues. And the disparity in the reporting has led to irreconcilable differences in believing what our society was, is, and should be, and how we should respond to that. And that’s aside from the more important irreconcilable difference, between those who follow Christ, those who oppose Christ… and then, there are those who think they can do the former in their heart and the latter in their actions.

Once in a great while, I’m tempted to jump in (for one side or the other) and add my two cents. And every time, I get busted down. Both sides have their rhetoric, their facts, and their memes to shut down any opposing posts. And every time I get busted down, I get an unmistakable message that it wasn’t just my friend calling me out, but Jesus reminding me, “I told you not to get into it. You’re not to get down into fighting for one side or the other. You’re to transcend above it, to minister to the people on both sides, and bring the attention of those on both sides to what transcends the sides, which is the shared human reality of needing love, needing hope, and meaning, and encouragement, and joy; and you’re to pull people toward me, toward personal holiness.”

So my focus, my response, to all that is going on, is that we’ve lost our focus. Our eyes are focusing on the storm, and not on Christ, and that’s when we get that sinking, drowning feeling of fear. That’s Peter in the Gospel. Whenever and wherever in our life that we get all panicked, we need to reach up, for Jesus to embrace us, and pull us up out of our sinking, and out of our panic, and we return our gaze to him. And at least in our hearts, he calms the storm. He says to us, “Oh my dear little one, why did you doubt?” And we respond, “Truly you are the Son of God.” And when I do that, he grounds me back on the steady rock that is himself, and my storm is calmed.

Jesus was constantly being tempted to take sides. Most particularly, perhaps, you may recall a question that was posed to Jesus regarding whether to agree to pay the Roman tax or not. Jesus, with divine insight, transcended the question of sides, and brought the focus of the people of God back to God, “and all were amazed at him.” 

Yes, we unequivocally reject and oppose racism, and all unjust prejudice, and any abuse of trust and authority by police, or clergy; we oppose the willful taking of innocent human life, the willful destruction of public property or the private property of another, for example, the destruction of stores, or homes, or churches, cemeteries, and images of saints. Yes, we also reject laws that infringe upon the inalienable right to live—privately, and professionally, and in managing our businesses—according to the truth of human nature as revealed by our faith, and not be forced to choose between acting against our conscience, or sacrificing our professional position or career.

At the same time, we shouldn’t be surprised that the Church and her children have her rights offended. The Church and the world have always been in conflict. But up until recently, we have been used to Western society coming from Christian Europe, and its foundation in “Christendom,” with the Church having a privileged position and respected voice of authority in society. But that’s no longer the case. Christianity is essentially being slowly pushed back into the catacombs, as it was when it flourished in its beginning.

In 1969, in the tension of all that was going on in the world at the time, Cardinal Ratzinger, who later became Pope Benedict XVI, gave an interview in which made a prophetic prediction. He said, “The future of the Church can and will issue from those whose roots are deep and who live from the pure fullness of their faith. From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge — a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start afresh more or less from the beginning. She will no longer be able to inhabit many of the edifices she built in prosperity. As the number of her adherents diminishes, so it will lose many of her social privileges… As a small society, it will make much bigger demands on the initiative of her individual members… The Church will be a more spiritual Church, not presuming upon a political mandate, flirting as little with the Left as with the Right. It will be hard going for the Church… It will make her poor and cause her to become the Church of the meek… But when the trial of this sifting is past, a great power will flow from a more spiritualized and simplified Church… And so it seems certain to me that the Church is facing very hard times… But I am equally certain about what will remain at the end: not the Church of the political cult, which is dead already, but the Church of faith. It may well no longer be the dominant social power to the extent that she was until recently; but it will enjoy a fresh blossoming and be seen as man’s home, where he will find life and hope beyond death.” 1969 (51 yrs ago) he said that.

So in our society, and in our life, the Church won’t be the strong imposing establishment that it once was. Older Catholics already lament the loss of the “parish culture” they remember from their youth, providing a scaffolding of support to bolster faith and morality, providing a social context that helped some more timid souls get to heaven, by protecting them from spiritual danger. The dominant flow now goes in a different direction, and souls that are not strong enough—or not taught well enough—to resist the current, are in greater peril. It will be harder to be Christian, which will bring more difficulty and suffering, and more falling away.

But what was elucidated for me in all this was that this is how Christianity started: with a network of Christian communities, with emissaries like Paul and Barnabas connecting them together with common texts and practices; sharing stories of troubles and successes; exchanging resources; building each other up; ministering to those searching for more (meaningfulness) than what society seems to offer; ministering to those imprisoned, lonely, depressed, and sick, and of course coming together to pray, worship, and grow in love for God and each other. Certainly, the early Christians gave to the Church for its expenses and needs, but this was not a substitute for personal ministry, but a deeper personal investment in what it means to live the Christian life.

The description of a church like this may seem to us to be uncomfortably new, a shadow of the church’s former glory. But for the Church, it will be familiar: a new springtime, as Pope Saint John Paul II called it (though perhaps not in the way he envisioned it). A renewed and deeper conversion of the members of the mystical body of Christ. I’ll close with this quote, originally attributed to St. Barnabas, which was part of last Sunday’s Liturgy of the Hours: “When evil days are upon us and the worker of malice gains power, we must attend to our own souls and seek to know the ways of the Lord. In those times, reverential fear and perseverance will sustain our faith, and we will find need of forbearance and self-restraint as well. Provided that we hold fast to these virtues and look to the Lord, then wisdom, understanding, knowledge and insight will make joyous company with them.”

We will have our rights violated, and our faith mocked. That’s already happening. We should not be surprised if the secular courts favor the secular world. But we will keep pushing for justice, for the rights of human dignity, for ourselves and for the needy and vulnerable.

But I think we should individually hold on to and keep coming back to today’s readings. I think these readings for today are a constant reminder for our consolation and humble confidence; our reminder of God’s calming presence in the stormy world we’re passing through. Jesus, God, is calling us out of our comfortable safety, for us to push aside the distractions, the fear, and the storm; to faithfully, obediently, and humbly walk toward him, neither to the right, nor to the left; to trust the calm whispering voice that says in the quiet depths of our heart, “Take courage. Do not be afraid. Come. Follow me.”