The Third Sunday of Easter (Year C)
Acts 5:27-32, 40b-41
Psalm 30:2, 4, 5-6, 11-12, 13
Revelation 5:11-14
John 21:1-19

In last week’s Gospel, we had two separate appearances of Jesus to his Apostles: First, the evening of the resurrection, but Thomas wasn’t with them. And then a week later, on the Second Sunday of Easter, and this time Thomas saw and believed. And Jesus blesses those who haven’t seen, yet believe. And then we had what sounded very much like the ending of the Gospel book.

But wait—there’s more. About half way through today’s gospel reading, it says, “This was now the third time Jesus was revealed to his disciples after being raised from the dead.” The first half of the reading, before that line, and the second half after it, can be looked at separately, so that’s what we’re going to do.

At the beginning of the reading, “Simon Peter said to them, ‘I am going fishing.’” Some people read that to mean Peter had given up and decided to go back to his former way of life. That just doesn’t make sense. We should remember that they just saw the resurrected Jesus, twice. Now, they were in Galilee, waiting for Jesus, as they were told. And while they were waiting, Peter decides, “We’re just here waiting. I’m gonna go fishing.” And they all say, “Yeah, ok. We’ll go with you.”

As usual, it seems, they spend all night fishing, and catch nothing. Then this stranger on the shore shouts out, “Children, have you caught anything to eat?” That’s a weird thing, maybe a little flag. He called them, “Children,” but they just answer, “No.” He tells them to throw the net over the right side of the boat, and they immediately catch so many fish they can’t even pull the net back into the boat. And that’s when it clicks for John, who remembers something like this happening before, after fishing all night unsuccessfully, this strange man gives them a strange suggestion, and on doing so, they catch a super-abundance of fish… way back when Jesus had first stepped into Peter’s boat. John turns to the others “Duh! Guys, it’s Jesus!” (That’s a more modern translation!) Peter jumps in the water, while the rest bring the boat and the net ashore. Apparently, Jesus must have seemed different somehow, or why would it say, “And none of the disciples dared to ask him, ‘Who are you?’” I don’t think it would say that if his resurrected body were exactly the same as he was before. But clearly, they knew that indeed he was himself. Then, after the miraculous catch of fish he had just given them, he gave them a meal of loaves and fishes. Yep, that’s Jesus.

Then, more importantly, we have the second half of our reading. First, notice that it very specifically says that Jesus was next to a charcoal fire. The Greek word for charcoal fire, anthrakian, appears only twice in the whole bible: here, and the charcoal fire Peter was warming himself by when he denied Christ three times. When did Jesus predict that Peter was going to deny him three times? When, at the Last Supper, Peter had said to Jesus that even if all the other disciples were to abandon him, Peter would never abandon him; that he loved him so much he would lay down his life for him. Now, next to a charcoal fire, Jesus asks Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?“ Wow. I can’t imagine how this must have been for Peter, to have Jesus so sharply call to mind that shared moment of betrayal: both his prediction of his betrayal, and Peter’s very moment of betrayal, by a charcoal fire, just as their eyes met, as the cock crowed. 

Actually, Jesus doesn’t ask, “Do you love me.” He asks, “Simon, son of John, do you love me  more than these?” More than these what? Does Jesus mean… Do you love me more than you love these other people? (Do you love me above all other persons in your life?) Or does he mean… Do you love me more than you love these fish? (Do you love me more than your way of life, your “comfort zone,” the pleasures and comforts that this world offers?) Or does he mean… Do you love me more than these other men do? Do you have greater love for me than others do? Do you excel in Christian love, so as to be ready to excel also in Christian authority? I would say that Jesus meant all of that, in his simple question. Simon, son of John, do you “agape” me? Do you love me with the sacrificial, self-giving, love that I have shown for you?

“Simon Peter answered him, ‘Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.’” I “phileo” you.” I don’t love you with your agape love, but I love you with all my phileo love. Not like God, but like my teacher, my mentor, my brother, my dearest friend. Jesus responds, “Feed my lambs.” Nourish my hungry people, give them the living water to quench their thirst, and the bread of heaven to feed their souls.

Second time, same thing: “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Do you agape me? Simon Peter answered him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” I phileo you. Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” The Greek word isn’t quite as soft and fluffy. It’s “Shepherd my sheep.” Lead them, protect them, guide them, provide for them. Teach and train them. Including the other Apostles. I’m putting you in charge. I am the Good Shepherd, but I’m telling you to shepherd my sheep on my behalf.

Now the third time: “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” But this time Jesus lowers the bar, and uses Peter’s word, “phileo.” It says, “Peter was distressed that Jesus had said to him a third time, do you love me?” Do you phileo me? And Peter said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” I phileo you. Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.”

When Judas had seen the effect of his betrayal of Jesus, he despaired of his forgiveness, and went out and hanged himself. When Peter had seen the effect of his betrayal of Jesus, he went out and wept, for having so offended the relationship he had with Jesus.

Now, Jesus asks Peter three times, “Do you love me,” in effect, forgiving and wiping away Peter’s betrayal. Now that Peter has experienced Jesus’ divine mercy and love for him, Jesus is inviting Peter to follow him not just as a disciple, but to follow him specifically in Jesus’ place as leader of the disciples, to be the Rock on which Jesus had said he would build his church. To be a Christian leader doesn’t mean great technical skill, or great administrative skill. It means great love. Peter, do you excel in Christian love, so as to be ready to excel also in Christian authority? Will you do what ever it takes, sacrificing your life, to love my people with my love for them? Jesus says, “‘Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.’ He said this signifying by what kind of death Peter would glorify God [–crucifixion]. And when he had said this, he said to Peter, ‘Follow me.’”

Jesus is in effect saying to Peter, “For now, I will meet you where you are, and accept your love of friendship, your phileo love. But in the Holy Spirit, you will mature in your role, you will mature in your love and care for my dear little flock that I trust to your care. Peter, the Fisher of men, Peter the Shepherd of the sheep: you may not be there yet, but I will bring you to my agape sacrificial, divine love. And you willingly make good on that promise to lay down your life for love of me and my body, the Church.” That’s the Peter we see in the Acts of the Apostles.

Since I now don’t have time to get into the other readings, I’ll just end with this: that this love we’re talking about with Jesus and Peter is what we mean by the agape love between Christ and his Bride, the Church. Husbands, you are like Peter, striving to more perfectly love and honor your bride with Jesus’ love for her, and to lead her, by serving her, nourishing her, shepherding her toward heaven, stepping up as the spiritual head of the home, especially for your children. Wives, you are called—first, to choose a good man who wants your salvation more than you do (and so won’t ask you to jeopardize your salvation by sin)—and then to look to your husband as the Church looked to Peter: as an icon of Jesus, a man capable of noble character, who needs your prayers and love and encouragement to be the man that God is calling him to be for you. Husbands, you are an icon of the Bridegroom. Wives, you are an icon of the Bride. Your marriage is an icon of the faithful, forgiving, patient, abundant, unbreakable love between them. That’s the sacrament of Marriage, which is so much more than sex and companionship. It’s the agape self-giving love of the cross, by which you offer your life to each other, maturing in your love and care for each other. “My beloved, do you love me? Yes, you know that I love you.”

“Why is this night different from every other night? Because once we were slaves, and we are slaves no longer…” These lines are drawn from the celebration of Passover, recalling God’s mighty liberation of his people from their slavery in Egypt, and they are a fitting way to describe the mysteries we celebrate this evening.

“Why is this night different from every other night?” Tonight, we are in the midst of the great Easter Triduum, the Mass of Our Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday, the Passion of Our Lord on Good Friday, and the most holy feast day of the Resurrection of Our Lord on Easter Sunday. The Easter Vigil—as the Church calls it, “The Mother of all Vigils”—prepares us throughout this night to enter even more joyfully into the Feast Day of the Resurrection.

“Why is this night different from every other night?” The Divine Liturgy of the Mass is made of two distinct parts: the Liturgy of the Word, and then the Liturgy of the Eucharist. In the Mass of the Easter Vigil, tonight, there are four parts to the Mass.

We started with the Liturgy of Light: Jesus Christ is the LIGHT in the Darkness. We blessed the Easter Fire, making it a sign of divine glory—God’s burning heart of divine love. From the fire we blessed the Paschal (or Easter) Candle, representing Christ as the light of the world, the pillar of fire that lights our darkness, leading the People of God on our journey through the wilderness to the Promised Land. Those of us who are baptized, although not wearing the white garments of our baptism, lit our candles from the Easter Candle, as the light of faith that we have received. Christ told us that we are the light of the world, telling us to share our light, from his light, with others. It also represents our vigilance to our Lord’s warning to keep awake, with the lamps of our faith and good works lit, prepared for our Lord’s coming.

The second part of our night is the Liturgy of the Word: Jesus Christ is THE WORD and truth of God. The Easter Vigil has seven Old Testament Readings, each with their own responsorial psalm and prayer, intending to help extend the length of the liturgy from sunset until the dawning of Easter Morning. Tonight, we just had three of those readings, because we’re not trying to extend the Mass (to anywhere close to dawn).

The Liturgy of the Word tonight helps us to focus on the mystery of baptism. In a few moments, we’ll hear the beautiful Easter blessing prayer over the water of the baptismal font, which like our readings, recalls many of the ways in which God has used water as an image of baptism and new life throughout salvation history—The water and the Holy Spirit at the beginning of creation; Israel’s passing through the waters of the Red Sea, putting their slavery behind them as they set off on their journey to the Promised Land; God’s beautiful promise through the prophet Ezekiel of a future restoration, in which God says to his people, “I will sprinkle clean water upon you to cleanse you… I will give you a new heart and place a new spirit within you… you shall be my people, and I will be your God.” From the New Testament, we heard Saint Paul’s letter to the Romans about the mystery of our death to sin, and new life in Christian baptism, as we are made into a new creation by the mystery of Christ’s death and resurrection being applied to us. And then, we heard from the Gospel of St. Luke, of the glorious empty tomb. Christ is not among the dead, but truly lives, as he promised. The power of the resurrection is given to us in baptism: our redemption from sin and death, and our new life of the grace of the risen Savior. “Why is this night different from every other night? Because once we were slaves, and we are slaves no longer…”

The third part of the Easter Vigil is the Liturgy of Initiation: Jesus Christ is THE LIFE of communion with God. In the Gospel of St. John, Jesus says, “Amen, amen, I say to you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit.” We have two young women among us who, over this past year, have been preparing to be baptized. Baptism in a sense is the virgin womb of Mother Church, from which is born new sons and daughters of God our Father, adopted through our communion in the divine sonship of Christ, as his brothers and sisters. In another sense, baptism is the bridal bath, the ceremonial washing of the members of the Bride of Christ, the Church, in preparation for her consummation of her nuptial communion with Christ her Bridegroom, who gave himself, that she might be made clean. Then they will receive their white baptismal garment, and their baptismal candle, which we talked about a moment ago.

Then we will have three men and women called forward, who have already been baptized in different Christian traditions, who have been preparing to be brought into full communion with the Catholic Church. Then all five of our new members, the two newly baptized, and the three newly professed, will receive the second sacrament of initiation, Confirmation. They will be anointed with sacred chrism, as Christ was anointed with the Oil of Gladness, to carry out his mission to be priest, prophet, and king.

They will then return to their place, as they join us in our celebration of the fourth and final part of the Easter Vigil, the Liturgy of the Eucharist: Jesus Christ is THE FOOD of the spiritual life. The Eucharist is celebrated tonight as we do each Sunday, albeit with a few alterations to the prayers in recognition of tonight’s special and sacred role in the sacramental life of the Church. Tonight, our five newly initiated members receive the last of the Church’s three sacraments of Initiation: the Eucharist. With this sacrament, our new members will join with us in the perfect reconciliation offered to us through the Paschal Mystery: the holy communion of Saints and angels in union with God. They will join us in being spiritually fed with the new manna of Christ’s flesh, and made new in the blood of the new Covenant. With us, they will receive the grace and power of Christ, to be sent out into the world, to minister God’s mercy, to spread God’s light, and to witness to God’s love. Congratulations and welcome, Sarah and  Bobbi, Matt, Aileen, and Justin. May God’s love richly bless you.

• The Liturgy of Light: Jesus Christ is THE LIGHT in the darkness.
• The Liturgy of the Word: Jesus Christ is THE WORD and Truth of God.
• The Liturgy of Initiation: Jesus Christ is THE LIFE in communion with God.
• The Liturgy of the Eucharist: Jesus Christ is THE FOOD of the spiritual life.

My brothers and sisters, Happy—and blessed—Easter to you and your family! “He is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia, Alleluia!” “Why is this night different from every other night? Because once we were slaves, and we are slaves no longer…”

The Fourth Sunday of Lent (Year C) “LAETARE SUNDAY”
Joshua 5:9a, 10-12
Psalm 34:2-3, 4-5, 6-7
2nd Corinthians 5:17-21
Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

This Fourth Sunday of Lent is traditionally called Laetare Sunday, from the entrance antiphon of the Mass: 

Latin:
“Lætare Jerusalem: et conventum facite omnes qui diligitis eam: gaudete cum lætitia, qui in tristitia fuistis: ut exsultetis, et satiemini ab uberibus consolationis vestræ!”

English:
“Rejoice, Jerusalem, and all who love her. Be joyful, all who were in mourning; exult and be satisfied at her consoling breast!“

The color for the Mass is the seasonal Lenten purple, the liturgical color of penitence and preparation, or for today the option of rose, the liturgical color of joy and rejoicing. On the one hand, it’s the joyful midpoint of our Lenten penitence, giving us a brief reminder of the Easter joy we’re preparing ourselves for. On the other hand, it’s also a reminder that even our penitence itself is essentially joyful, as offering our suffering and sacrifice unites us more closely with Christ and the mysterious joy of the paradox of the cross.

In our gospel reading last week, Jesus gave us our rude awakening. Our kind and gentle Jesus shouted us out of our spiritual sleep with the abrupt and sudden message, “If you do not repent, you will all perish!” Wake up! You don’t know that you have the next day or the next year to change your ways and take your eternal life seriously. You don’t know that you are going to heaven with your current spiritual condition. Repent, change your ways. Love God with all your soul and all your life, and bear the fruit of your faith, and do it urgently and always.

In this week’s gospel, we have the good news—the joyful news—that our God who urgently calls us to repentance, is eagerly waiting for us to return to Him, as a father who painfully misses his runaway child, that He might again embrace us in His love, restore us to our dignity, and share His overflowing joy with us.

The readings together share a common theme of renewal and “new creation.” In our first reading, actually right before our first reading, God instructs Joshua to circumcise Israel a second time. All those who had been circumcised when they had left Egypt had died for their unfaithfulness, and Moses had failed to circumcise the next generation. Circumcision is the sign of a man’s participation in the covenant. So Joshua did as God had commanded. And thus the first line of our first reading, “The LORD said to Joshua, ‘Today I have removed the reproach of Egypt from you.’” So immediately upon entering into the Promised Land, the Lord renews Israel in their identity and covenant as God’s people.

And then the Israelites celebrated the Passover for the first time with the fruits of the Promised Land. The Exodus began with the Passover, and now ends with the Passover, the sacrifice that is to be a perpetual reminder of the Lord liberating them from their slavery in Egypt. And now that their journey had come to an end, the miraculous food for the journey, the manna, which God had provided for them, has come to an end as well. The food they had never seen before its appearance at the beginning of the Exodus, they never saw again after the Exodus. But the Manna was one of the items God told them to put into the Ark of the Covenant (along with the tablets of the Law, and Aaron’s staff). And they believed the manna would someday return, with the Messiah, the new Moses, for the new Exodus, to the New Promised Land.

As great and momentous as their Exodus was, which freed them from slavery, brought them into the great covenant with God, revealed to them the truth of human nature and moral law, and instituted them as a nation, for all that, it was still only a promise of a greater Exodus yet to come. Moses did not circumcise the second generation, nor did Moses lead them across the threshold into the Promised Land. Joshua accomplished what Moses did not. The Hebrew for Joshua’s name is Yeshua, which is also the Hebrew for Jesus. Likewise, Jesus accomplished what Moses did not. Moses freed the Israelites (those who participated in the Passover and the circumcision) from the physical slavery of the Egyptians. Jesus frees all people (who participate in baptism and the Eucharist) from the spiritual slavery of sin. Moses gave the people the law of living by justice, written on stone. Jesus gave the people the love of living by mercy, written on the heart. Moses gave the daily miraculous bread from heaven that fed the body for the Exodus to the Promised Land of Canaan. Jesus gives the daily living miraculous bread from heaven that feeds the spirit for our new Exodus to the new Promised Land of Heaven.

In our second reading, Saint Paul teaches the Corinthians, “Whoever is in Christ is a new creation: the old things have passed away… And all this is from God, who has reconciled us to himself through Christ…” I have said before that God isn’t up in heaven with his angels keeping track of each of our mistakes and sins. He’s looking for us to become a certain sort of person—the sort of person who throws themselves upon the mercy of God with contrition, sorrow for their sins, and the hope that through God’s mercy, they will go and sin no more; to be able to amend their life and live virtuously and fruitfully. Each time we go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation, we re-enter into the mystery of our baptism, in which we are made anew from our old life. We become a new creation, not defined by our sin, but by God’s merciful love for us. And all this is possible through the life-giving sacrifice of Christ, who pours the grace of His Paschal Mystery into the world, and upon all who truly want to put their past behind them and step forward into their new life in Christ. Paul again pleads with us: “We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.”

The beautiful parable in our Gospel Reading has been given different names, each giving its own emphasis on how the parable might be interpreted. The most common title is “The Parable of the Prodigal Son.” The word prodigal means “spending one’s resources carelessly or indulgently.” And so this title emphasizes how the younger son “squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation.” Another common name for this story is “The Parable of the Merciful Father,” or even the “Prodigal Father,” emphasizing the great indulgence of forgiveness expressed by the Father on the son’s return. Pope Benedict called this “The Parable of the Two Sons,” emphasizing the contrast between the contrition of the younger son and the hard-heartedness of the older son. The best name might be the “Parable of the Lost Son.” Jesus gives the parable in the context of Pharisees and Scribes offended that Jesus and his disciples are eating with sinners. Jesus responds with a number of short parables (which our reading skipped, between the introduction and the parable) such as the shepherd who left the ninety-nine sheep and found the one lost sheep, and the widow who had lost and then found her two coins. And then Jesus gives this parable, in which the father twice says that his son was lost, and is now found.

For today, we’re just going to focus on two things in this beautiful parable. First, the younger son had set off for distant lands. It sounds awesome in Greek, it’s the chora makra (which sounds like an alien race in Doctor Who) which means, “the great wide-open emptiness.” Now he’s suffering, because he wasted his money, and he’s starving, eating less than he’s feeding the pigs. He’s someplace where they herd pigs, so we know he’s not among the Israelites, because pigs are unclean. For Jesus’ audience hearing this parable, this would have connected with the theme of exile: Israel’s sinfulness caused them to leave the Promised Land and suffer disgrace and captivity out in the chora makra. We often think of sin in the sense that we broke a commandment or rule, and so we deserved to be punished. But here we have other images for sin: sin as exile, sin as suffering, sin as being unclean, sin as having lost our sense of worth or dignity. Surely we have felt these effects of sin.

And the second thing we’re going to look at is the encounter of the son returning to his father. When his father saw him from a distance, it implies his father had been in the habit of looking into the distance with the hope of his sons’ return. When the father saw that the son was coming home, the father ran out to meet him. The son didn’t even get the chance to finish his prepared speech! So what did the father do? First, it says the father was “filled with compassion.” The Greek word means, “He was moved in his guts, his bowels” (which is sometimes adapted to “heart”). It’s the same Greek word used when it says Jesus saw that the people “were like sheep without a shepherd, and his heart was moved with pity for them.” It’s that feeling deep within, of just wanting to embrace a loved one in their suffering, and pull them close and comfort them. It says the father, “embraced him and kissed him.” Literally in the Greek it says he “cast himself on the neck of his son”. If you’ve ever seen the videos of veterans returning home and surprising their loved ones (I love those videos!), what’s the response of that encounter? It’s this. A tight, full embrace of love of someone who was gone, maybe forever, and has returned. That’s the love of this father being shown.

Then the son tries to give his speech of his humble offer. But his father cuts him off, and tells his servants, ‘Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.” What does that mean? It means that the son is not being welcomed back as a slave or servant, but being restored to his dignity as a son of the Father, as family. He receives the family cygnet ring, and will not go barefoot like a slave but with the dignity of having sandals for his feet. We can see how this father, in his prodigal (extravagant, bounteous) forgiveness of his son, undoes all our earlier images for the effects of sin. “Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.’”

All our lives, in every moment, God, our loving Father, is eagerly waiting, hoping, and watching for your return to Him. God wants to embrace you and welcome you to Himself, to bring you out of your suffering, to clean and wash you from your sins, and to restore and help you to see your own dignity as a son or daughter of the Most High God. This is the new creation, the restoration, made available to us by Jesus, by his life-giving, reconciling sacrifice, which we celebrate every Easter. It’s a miracle so wonderful, that we need 40 days of purification and preparation to enter into the celebration of so great a mystery. But first we need to wake up, and recognize our sin, and repent. Reconcile yourself with God. “Taste and See the Goodness of the Lord.”

Third Sunday of Lent, Year C
Exodus 3:1-8a, 13-15
Psalm 103: 1-2, 3-4, 6-7, 8, 11
1st Corinthians 10:1-6, 10-12
Luke 13:1-9

Our gospel reading gives us three separate images of our main theme for today. Our theme is that of God’s desire for our reconciliation with Him, Who is the source of life and salvation. God says to us repeatedly through His prophets that He does not delight in the death and destruction of the sinner. He is God of life. He wants not death, but that the sinner would repent, call upon God’s mercy, live according to the truth, bear the good fruit of faith and virtue, and share in eternal life.

In our first reading, we hear God’s call of Moses from the encounter of the burning bush, which is in flames, but is not consumed by them. God proclaims to him, “I am the God of your fathers… the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob… I have witnessed the affliction of my people in Egypt and have heard their cry… so I know well what they are suffering. Therefore I have come down to rescue them… and lead them out… into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey.” This doesn’t sound like a God who is all wrath and destruction and judgment. This is the revelation of a God of relationship, of nurturing, guiding, and protection. This is a God who hears the cry of His own people and enters into their suffering, and leads them through their suffering, and delivers them to goodness and abundance.

Our Psalm echoes that theme: “The Lord is kind and merciful… He pardons all your iniquities, heals all your ills, He redeems your life from destruction, crowns you with kindness and compassion… He has made known his ways to Moses, and his deeds to the children of Israel.”

When God revealed his name to Moses, in our first reading, it’s extremely difficult to translate the full impact of what’s contained in the short, simple Hebrew. “‘I am who am.’ Then he added, ‘This is what you shall tell the Israelites: I AM sent me to you.’” It reveals that God is being; As St. Augustine explored in his Confessions, time exists only to matter, and God is infinitely transcendent to matter. So God is beyond time. We think of God in our material, temporal terms, “as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.” Infinite, perfect existence. But that’s the perspective from within our time. From God’s perspective, He simply is. He is the perfection of existence: love, light, goodness, beauty, wisdom, compassion, justice, etc. Time is just a little span of drama. He can see the whole continuum of time. He can do what he wants in any point of time. His nature is to provide being to all things, and to be well-disposed toward the flourishing of their being, their nature. It’s not that God is vindictive or wrathful, but rather when human beings  make choices that hit against the well-being of their own nature and existence, then their existence, human nature itself, hits back. Not with the intent to destroy, but with the intent to bring one back into harmony with its nature, its flourishing. To quote the humorous sign I saw recently, “Everything happens for a reason, and sometimes that reason is that we’re stupid and make bad decisions.”

Often, then, our suffering is rooted in some pattern of sinful choices that frustrate our goodness and happiness. But Jesus’ message in our gospel reading is that this is not true for all suffering. In fact, the two examples at the beginning of our gospel are the two sources or kinds of evil: moral evil, and natural evil. Moral evil is suffering that comes from sin committed by a person. In our Gospel reading, Pontius Pilate slaughtered some Galilean Jews and mixed their blood with the blood of the sacrifice they were offering in worship. Natural evil refers to suffering that comes from something that just happens without blame. In our Gospel reading, eighteen people were killed in Jerusalem when a tower fell on them. We might add with that other natural disasters, such as flooding, or earthquakes; and disease, like cancer, or pneumonia. It’s perhaps a little easier to process the suffering or death of a loved one from moral evil: there’s someone to blame, someone to be angry at, someone to work toward forgiving. It’s often more difficult to process when the suffering or death of a loved one is from a natural evil.

Since suffering that comes from our own bad choices, and suffering from natural evil, both lack a “person out there” to blame, we can sometimes confuse the two. How often someone asks, “Why me? Why do I deserve this?” or worse, they say it about a tragedy that happens to a child. We can’t presume that our suffering is always deserved, because that’s just not always the case… which should bring some relief, but it often doesn’t. Because if it were something that we did to deserve it, we might be able to fix it. And that allows us to live in a universe that’s fair and makes sense to us (and implies we as humanity are in control of whether we suffer). But if it’s natural evil, again, that’s often harder to process, because we believe that if we do the right things, we won’t suffer. And when tragedy strikes anyway, there might be a feeling of betrayal: that’s not fair. The natural response in that case is then to blame the only other person that can be blamed: God. How many people have lost their faith because of tragedy? As if faith in God is protection against suffering (as though suffering were completely avoidable, or even that suffering is bad; certainly we don’t enjoy suffering, but in a modern society where pleasure is the ultimate blessing, suffering is the ultimate curse). God doesn’t always protect us from suffering. God didn’t keep the Israelites from becoming slaves in Egypt. And the Scriptures say nothing of their deserving to become slaves. But God does deliver them from slavery, and for the rest of their history, their cultural experience of slavery becomes a constant image for the captivity of sin, and the power of God to deliver them from slavery into the Promised Land. 

Back to the Gospel reading… Jesus says, “Do you think that, because this happened to them, they were greater sinners than all other Galileans?” “Do you think they were more guilty than everyone else who lived in Jerusalem?”

“By no means,” he says. “But… I tell you, if you do not repent, you will all perish as they did!” Jesus uses these examples to remind us that we must not make excuses for putting off repenting of our sinful habits and attachments, reconciling ourselves with God, and living always mindful that at any moment we might perish without warning. I’ve never gotten caught up in predictions about when the world ends, and what the end of the world and general judgment will be like. Because there’s only a possibility that we’ll be alive when that happens. But it’s absolutely guaranteed that we’ll see our own life end, and our own particular judgment. And that could happen at any time. 

That doesn’t mean adopting the self-absolving attitude, “I live with no regrets,” because there very well might be some big regrets you’ll have, if you unexpectedly find yourself before the God who called you to repentance, and whose invitation you postponed and ignored. And it also doesn’t, on the other hand, mean living in scrupulous fear of making a mistake and losing your salvation. (God does not have angels with notepads keeping track of our every little sin… we talked about that here). What it does mean is that our God is generous in mercy, always inviting us to partake of his repentance and salvation. But we only have this life to do that, and this life can end in an instant. We might not get the time we think we have. And if we unexpectedly have to answer for having delayed our repentance and living by God’s way, if we haven’t done all we could to purge sinful behaviors and vices and ordered our life to love God with all our heart, all our soul, all our mind, then we might find that the secular message that “everyone who’s basically a good person goes to heaven,” isn’t what God says.

At the end of our second reading, the Word of God says, through St. Paul, “…whoever thinks he is standing secure should take care not to fall.” Elsewhere, St. Paul says to the Philippians, “Work out your salvation with fear and trembling.” At the end of our Gospel reading, Jesus gives us another parable: a fig tree that is failing to be fruitful. The landowner loves his orchard, all the trees that generously put forth their fruit, as it is a tree’s nature to do, when nurtured, and cared for, as God cares for us. But about the unfruitful tree, the landowner tells the gardener, “For three years now I have come in search of fruit on this fig tree but have found none. So cut it down. Why should it exhaust the soil?” The gardener responds, “Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future. If not you can cut it down.” If we’re wasting the talents and resources God is giving us, and yet we won’t produce the fruit we’re supposed to… maybe we’ll be left for another year… and maybe that year is already up.

When I had my dad as a high school biology teacher, he always called the Chapter 3 test “The Rude Awakening.” The first two tests weren’t necessarily easy, but this test clearly raised the bar, and students struggled (not always successfully) with the new level of challenge. He was a great teacher. He was just, and he was merciful (which was good, because I’m not really good at biology!). After the first two weeks of Lent, with Jesus triumphing over Satan’s temptations, and the glorious beauty of the Transfiguration, this week’s Gospel, here in Week 3 of Lent, Jesus raises the bar, and gives us our Rude Awakening: We’re not resting in the verdant pastures of heaven yet. There’s work to be done. If you do not repent, you will perish.

The truth of the gospel is not just about God’s beautiful invitation to his mercy and kindness—it is that—but also about God’s requirements of justice and truth—that we must accept the invitation to repent (from the actions we’ve done and the habits we have that conflict with the flourishing of our human nature), and bear fruit. The way to salvation is steep and narrow, and few are those who find it. You can’t just float upstream. Things float downstream. If we’re going to go up, it’s going to be by repenting of our sins, reconciling ourselves with God’s Divine Mercy, and bearing the fruit of our faith.

The First Sunday of Lent (Year C)

Deuteronomy 26:4-10
Psalm 91:1-2, 10-11, 12-13, 14-15
Romans 10:8-13
Luke 4:1-13

There is an old story about a carriage that was being pulled by a pair of spirited steeds. A heavy drowsiness came upon the driver and he fell asleep. The horses, not feeling the restraint of the reins, went off the right path, and soon they were bouncing over bush and brush, to the edge of a ravine. A man nearby saw the carriage, and called out in a loud voice: “Wake up! Save yourself!” The driver suddenly awakened. In a moment he realized his peril. Pale and trembling, he hastily grabbed the reins, and, exerting almost superhuman effort, he succeeded in turning the horses to one side, saving his life, his animals, and the carriage. The story is an allegory: the fiery steeds are the appetites and passions which threaten to run at full tilt, even toward danger, pulling the heart with them. The driver is the wisdom and intelligence with which God has endowed human beings that we might rule over our appetites and passions and have dominion over our self-destructive impulses.

The reading from the Gospel of Luke which we just heard was about Jesus overcoming the temptations in the desert.

We discussed these a bit on Ash Wednesday, because the three main penitential practices of Lent address these same three weaknesses, what are sometimes called the Triple Concupiscence (concupiscence is sinful inclination of excess of desire). Saint John in his first letter identifies them as:

• Lust of the flesh (a disordered desire for pleasure, indulgence)
• Lust of the eyes (a disordered desire for possession, greed, envy), 
• Pride of life (pride, a disordered focus on self at the expense of the love of God).

The Seven Capital Vices in relation to the Triple Concupiscence

I also mentioned at Mass on Ash Wednesday, that these also correspond to the temptation of the forbidden fruit that Eve gave in to. In Genesis 3:6, it says, “The woman saw that the tree was good for food [lust of the flesh] and pleasing to the eyes [lust of the eyes], and the tree was desirable for gaining wisdom [disordered lust for pride, power]. So she took some of its fruit and ate it…” It’s not that these things they wanted were bad; they were good! Food is good, possessions are good (God gave Adam and Eve the whole world), and even the desire to be like God is a good thing, to be wise is a good thing. But they wanted these good things in the wrong way. They figured that the best way to attain these good things was by breaking God’s commandment. It’s still wrong to try to get a good thing the wrong way. 

On Ash Wednesday, we heard Jesus give us the three penitential practices of the Christian life, particularly in Lent, to directly fight against this Triple Concupiscence. First, Jesus talked about “when you give alms,” giving of our possessions so that we learn detachment, and overcome the lust of the eyes. Then Jesus talked about “when you pray,” giving glory to God, acknowledging that we are inferior and dependent on God, and overcome pride. And then Jesus talked about “when you fast,” when you discipline your bodily appetites, overcoming the power and hungers of the lust of the flesh.

Men and women who enter religious orders take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, what are often called “the evangelical counsels.” These virtues are enshrined in the rule of many religious orders because they are tried-and-true Christian weapons for resisting the Triple Concupiscence, not just for vowed religious, but for everyone: poverty helps resist the lust of the eyes, chastity resists against the lust of the flesh, and obedience helps resist against pride of life. Pretty much all sin that we commit, or are tempted to commit, is some aspect of this Triple Concupiscence. 

So now we can look at the temptations and testing that Jesus endured in the wilderness, and guess what, we see the same Triple Concupiscence.

Before we get to that, let’s look at the forty days Jesus spent in the desert. We often hear that the number forty in the Scriptures simply means “a really long time.” According to Dr. Brant Pitre, biblical references to the number forty spiritually denote a period of preparation and purification. It’s not just that it rained a long time while Noah was in the ark, but it was a period of purifying the earth from sin, and a preparation for a new beginning. Moses spent forty years in the desert before his encounter with the Lord in the burning bush, and he spent forty days atop Mt. Sinai, in preparation for his leading God’s people Israel from their slavery in Egypt, and for his role as the quintessential prophetic figure, interceding between God and God’s stiff-necked (stubborn) people. Israel’s forty years in the desert marked their period of purification from the slavery and idolatry (and other sins) of pagan Egypt, and preparation for their place as the holy nation of God’s people.

Immediately after Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan (which we heard in January), and before beginning his earthly ministry (beginning with the synagogue in Nazareth), we skipped over our gospel for today, Jesus’ time of purification and preparation to face the challenges of his Messianic mission, to enter into combat with (and faithfully resist the testing by) Satan.

In Exodus 4:22, God tells Moses, “So you will say to Pharaoh, Thus says the LORD: Israel is my son, my firstborn.” Immediately before Luke tells of the temptations in the desert, he gives Jesus’ genealogy, not just to Abraham, as Matthew did, but all the way back to “Adam, son of God.” As Adam failed in the garden, Israel failed in the desert. Jesus, the true and perfect Son of God, the “New Adam,” now recapitulates these tests, and of course passes with perfect faithfulness, in himself removing (or rather, taking into himself) Adam’s and Israel’s failures. 

Jesus faced these temptations not because there was the chance he would fail—he was divine—but, like his baptism which brought us into his relationship with the Father, his temptations unite us into his victory over the snares and wickedness of the devil, Satan, the ancient Serpent, the enemy of humanity. 

First, Satan tempts Jesus in the area of Lust of the Flesh: “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.” How was this a temptation for Jesus? He had been fasting in the desert for forty days, he’s not just fully divine, but also fully human, incarnate. He has to be very hungry. And yet, he rejects the temptation to give up the purifying suffering of his fast. He responds, “It is written, ‘One does not live on bread alone’” (Dt 8:3). Remember what Jesus said to his disciples when he was talking with the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4:34), “Jesus said to them, ‘My food is to do the will of the one who sent me, and to finish his work.’”

Second, Satan tempts Jesus with the Lust of the Eyes: “The devil said to him, ‘I shall give to you all this power and their glory; for it has been handed over to me, and I may give it to whomever I wish. All this will be yours, if you worship me.’” (All the world was entrusted by God to Adam and Eve. When they sinned, they, and everything handed over to them, fell into the debt to Satan. Jesus calls Satan “the prince of this world.”) How is this a test, a temptation for Jesus? It’s not the glory and splendor of those kingdoms; it’s all the human souls in those kingdoms. Jesus’ messianic mission is to win back those kingdoms, all the souls of the world, from Satan’s grasp. And Satan is saying “Look, I’ll give them all to you, just give me your worship, and they’re all yours.” And what does Jesus say? “Worship the Lord, your God, alone” (Dt 6:13).

Third, Satan temps Jesus with Pride: “Then he led him to Jerusalem, made him stand on the parapet of the temple, and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here…” Satan says, “Look, if you’re the son of God then prove it to everyone. Show everyone your power. Jump off the parapet (the highest point) of the Temple, where everyone can see. And then they’ll know that you are in fact the Son of God, when the angels catch you.” Satan quotes Psalm 91, about the angels coming to our aid. Yes, Jesus wants everyone to come to faith and believe in him as the Son of God. Wouldn’t it make it easier for Jesus to convert the world to Him—to accept and follow Him—if he performed a huge public spectacle to prove and wipe out any doubt that he is indeed the Messiah, the Son of God? But the problem is… this isn’t God’s way (which allows for each person’s free choice to put their faith in Christ). This forceful overpowering of people’s free will would be Jesus conforming to the way the world works, instead of Jesus converting the world to the way heaven works—where Jesus’ freely accepted suffering and death on the cross is the victorious act of sacrificial love to redeem humanity from sin and raise humanity to the glorious life of grace. Satan is tempting Jesus away from the cross. Remember when Peter rebuked Jesus for predicting his crucifixion? Jesus rebuked Peter back, saying, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do” (Matthew 16:23). Also notice the connection between Satan saying to Jesus here, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here” and Jesus’ persecutors at his crucifixion saying, “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!”

Psalm 91, the psalm Satan quotes in the third temptation, is our psalm for today. And in Jewish tradition, it’s a deliverance prayer, a psalm of exorcism. People would pray Psalm 91 over someone possessed by demonic or satanic influence. One theory as to why Satan quotes this psalm is because he knew it, he’d heard it many times, he knew its power. And in his effort to use it to tempt Jesus, he twists the meaning from one of trusting in the Lord’s protection to pridefully presuming on God’s protection. Because that’s Satan’s way: to manipulate, to trick, to try to win by devious cleverness and half-truths. So Jesus responds to Satan’s temptation, “It also says, ‘You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test’” (Dt. 6:16).

And if the words of our psalm sounded a bit familiar, it’s the basis of the song, “On Eagles’ Wings.” Also, the Liturgy of the Hours offers this as the psalm for every Sunday night (and every Solemnity), so that we might begin our week delivered from the power of the enemy. 

Interestingly, when Satan pulls his chosen scripture quotes from Psalm 91, the very next verse, which of course he doesn’t quote, is “You will tread on the lion and the adder, the young lion and the serpent you will trample under foot.” Peter in his letter says Satan is “prowling like a roaring lion, looking for souls to devour.” And of course the connection between Satan and the snake in the garden, the serpent, and the great dragon in the Book of Revelation, makes it easy to see not only why this would be a psalm of exorcism, but also why Satan would stop short of quoting this verse… which speaks of his own defeat!

The first readings of the liturgical season of Lent aren’t chosen to be connected to the Gospel readings, like in Ordinary Time. As Lent progresses, the first readings take us on a tour of the pivotal moments in salvation history in the Old Testament, leading us up to its consummation in Christ, which we celebrate at Easter, the end of the Lenten Season.

Our First reading, from Deuteronomy, Moses outlines the liturgical instructions for the faithful for the celebration of Pentecost, which is an ancient harvest festival, to give thanks to the Lord. The faithful are to present to God the first fruits of their labor, which the priest receives in a basket, and sets in front of the altar of the Lord. Then they participate in a memorial narrative that outlines the history of the covenant.

Kind of like what we’re going to do in the rest of the Mass. The collection is taken up of the first fruits (not just what’s left over and easier to give) of our labor (which in the modern world isn’t fruit or wheat, but exchanged for money), which the priest receives (from the ushers) in a basket, and sets in front of the altar of the Lord. Then the faithful participate in the retelling of the Institution Narrative of the Last Supper, in which Jesus consecrates the bread and wine on the altar into the Covenant of His Body and Blood.

[The Sunday homily for parish Masses at this point used the first reading—of giving our first fruits to the Lord—as the reflection for speaking about the Diocesan Annual Campaign. Everything from here on was not part of the homily.]

The Second Reading we have for today is somewhat challenging in giving the broader meaning of its apparent (and often mistaken) simplicity.

“Brothers and sisters: What does Scripture say? The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart…” Paul is quoting Moses’ words after he gave Israel the Law: “For this command which I am giving you today is not too wondrous or remote for you. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, ‘Who will go up to the heavens to get it for us and tell us of it, that we may do it?’ Nor is it across the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will cross the sea to get it for us and tell us of it, that we may do it?’ No, it is something very near to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to do it” (Dt 30:11-14).

“—that is, the word of faith that we preach—” Paul refers to the commandment of the law of Moses, which is fulfilled by the word of faith in Christ; the works of obedience to the law that does not save, fulfilled by the life of love poured out from Christ into our hearts, which does save. The Mosaic Law was an external law, a set of precepts from God that Israel was to follow to live in harmony with the laws of Creation and human flourishing, along with some particular laws for living together in community. So the heart of the (Mosaic) Law is in essence written into our very nature, “something very near to you, in your mouth and in your heart.” But the Law merely pointed out what sort of things were sinful, but gave no intrinsic help against fallen humanity’s inclination toward sin. The New Law, the New Covenant in Christ, surpasses the Mosaic Law in raising the perspective from simple legal obedience to embracing the love of God that inspired the Mosaic Law. In Christ the Law is fulfilled, for Christ perfectly satisfied the requirements of the Law, and even put to death the punishments owed by all who failed to uphold the Law. Then, even greater, Christ put His own Holy Spirit within us (received in the Sacrament of Baptism, and then more perfectly and fruitfully in the Sacrament of Confirmation), to give us an internal fountain of grace to live the Christian life of divine love (which surpasses the Law). But it requires our consent and our cooperation to participate in this life, which Christ by his perfect sacrifice makes available to us.

“For, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For one believes with the heart and so is justified, and one confesses with the mouth and so is saved.” The prima facie interpretation of these verses is asserted by many evangelical Christians to be the essence of the whole Christian scripture, faith, and life. And that would be good, if the Christian scripture did not also identify many other requirements for being saved, such as avoiding sin (1 Thes 5:22), eating and drinking the body and blood of Christ (Jn 6:53) worthily (1 Cor 11:27), remaining in full communion with the Church without causing scandal (1 Cor 5:2), being baptized with water and the Spirit (Jn 3:5), denying ourselves, picking up our cross daily, and following Jesus (Mt 16:24), to name a few.

So how do we reconcile this verse with the larger picture of what we must do to be saved? First and foremost, Jesus Christ our Lord, the Son of God, by his life, death, and resurrection, purchased salvation for all who would believe in him, love him, follow him, and unite themselves to him. He is the only one by whom anyone can have any hope in salvation. We cannot earn salvation apart or aside from him by any amount of human works. People often think the Catholic Church teaches a salvation by works, but that is a heresy consistently condemned by the Church. 

“If you confess with your mouth” should be interpreted not just in confessing your Christian faith and identity, which could result in suffering and even death, but also your confession should be considered to be with more than your mouth. It should be consistent with the witness (confession) of your Christian life. Certainly we must not speak one way and then live in a way that conflicts with our words. We cannot speak in the Spirit and then live in the Flesh. If you “believe in your heart” that Jesus is resurrected and lives and is truly the Son of God, then the whole of your life, in your words and your actions, should manifest that heart-held belief. And if you do so, you will be saved. Not because you earned your salvation by your works, but because your heart was good, fertile soil, which received the Word, which then bore fruit that will last, the fruit of your Christian life of faith, hope, and love (not just faith!)—the greatest of these is love, which must be lived out in the intentional choices and relationships of our life. So one believes with the heart, and so is justified by a living and fruitful faith, and one confesses with the mouth, one’s words and actions bearing consistent witness to one’s faith in the living Christ and his saving truth, and so one is saved.  

“For the Scripture says, ‘No one who believes in him will be put to shame.’ For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all, enriching all who call upon him.” Paul is addressing the Roman Christian community (whom he has not yet met at the time of his letter), which is enduring some tension between Jewish Christians and Gentile (Greek, or Greco-Roman) Christians, with the Jewish Christians being even more targeted for having been Jewish. So while he encourages all the Roman Christians to bravely live out and confess their Christian faith regardless of the apparent shame that might come to them, he is also encouraging reconciliation and unity in the Roman Christian community, particularly calling on the gentile Christians to be supportive and protective of their Jewish Christian brothers and sisters. 

“For ‘everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’” The Roman Christians are encouraged again to bravely face persecution for their faith, because it is their faith—their being Christian—not just in name but in their witness—that is their hope for being strengthened by Christ in their suffering, and saved by Christ in their martyrdom. 

The reason the Church gives us this gospel reading is because Lent is about uniting ourselves to the mystery of Jesus in the desert. We are living out that mystery in our own lives during the forty days of Lent. We all face temptation, and often feel helpless to resist them. Because Lent is about taking on temptation, sacrifice, and trying to unite ourselves with Jesus, we’re going to face an uptick in resistance from the Enemy. Lent is also a time of spiritual warfare. So we can remember the lessons of Jesus in the desert from our Gospel today, and his instructions given to us in the Gospel on Ash Wednesday, to help us overcome the three great areas of our weakness and temptation. Let us not sleepily allow our disordered passions to run unreigned toward danger, but let us awake and save ourselves, exercising wisdom and understanding over our passions.

Let us embrace the opportunity for purification and preparation, that we may more fruitfully and joyfully celebrate the Easter Mysteries!

This year is the latest calendar-date that Easter can be, and so this is the farthest into Ordinary time we can go before Ash Wednesday and the readings switch over to Lent. So these readings today for the Eighth Sunday of Ordinary Time in Year C, haven’t been used in 18 years.

This Sunday we finish Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain in the Gospel of Luke. 

In the first week, we reflected on the blessings and curses. The worldly values of the Kingdom of Man are upside down from the values of the Kingdom of God. When we acknowledge that the earthly life that gets us to heaven—the life that follows the example of Jesus—is the only truly good life, then we embrace and find joy in the suffering, rejection, and virtues which most unite us with Jesus. And we reject, or are at least very wary of, the treasures and pleasures of this life, as they dull our desire for heaven, or distract us from that which leads us toward heaven.

In the second week—last week—we reflected on living out this upside-down example Jesus gives us, compared to how we naturally see things in this world. We naturally love our friends and hate our enemies; Jesus teaches us we must love our enemies, and pray for those who mistreat us. We naturally lend to those who will pay us back; Jesus teaches us to give sacrificially, especially to those who can’t pay us back. We naturally promote ourselves as right and good, and others as wrong and bad (especially those who make us feel bad); Jesus teaches us not to judge, not to seek revenge, but to have mercy, and we will be shown mercy, for the measure we use for others, God will use for us.

In the third week and final week—our Gospel reading for today—Jesus teaches us how to spread the Gospel, in our words and our actions, by our example. “Can a blind person guide a blind person? Will not both fall into a pit?’ No disciple is superior to the teacher; but when fully trained, every disciple will be like his teacher.” The martial arts, like kung fu, have a long series of moves, which a student must learn by imitating his teacher. It takes much practice to perfect each move, and a long time of discipleship to learn the entire series of moves. But a teacher can only teach as far as he himself knows, and he can only teach his disciples as well as he himself knows. A poor teacher is unlikely to make excellent disciples of the art, but he can make excellent disciples of himself, who, like himself, would then be poor disciples of the art. Be careful whose disciple you become, whose teaching and example you’re following. If they’re not leading you to virtue and holiness, they are a blind guide at best, and you will both fall into the pit, at worst. That’s also a point to ponder for those who have people they are teaching and giving example to, such as children. Don’t be a blind teacher, failing to lead to virtue and holiness, or you and they may both fall into the pit.

The blind guide is not only one who does not know the way, but one who does not know himself, his sins, faults, and blind spots. Ignorance of one’s sins is a source of false pride. It is this blindness and false pride that leads one to commit the sins Jesus talked about earlier: judging and condemning others with a harsh measure. One of the best weapons against this ignorance is frequent use of an Examination of Conscience and the Sacrament of Confession. The Examination of Conscience forces us to look more critically at our conduct in the light of the moral guide of Church teaching. The frequent use of the Sacrament of Confession sharpens our awareness of our actions, and helps us to be more attentive to the promptings of conscience and grace. 

You might ask, “How can a celibate priest give me guidance in marriage and raising children, or on other moral matters of which he has little or no experience?” On the human level, the priest has two sources of such guidance. First, priests are not locked in the church between Sundays. Priests have families, friends, and other relationships and experiences that they bring to their ministry. Second, priests have more than their own personal experience, but also the body of experience of Catholic Tradition. The counseling wisdom of the Church has been amassed over centuries of developing moral guidance in light of human experience, difficulties, weakness, and relationships. Third, a priest encounters hundreds or thousands of people in his priestly ministry, and if the priest is wise, each one has many things to teach him about different personal challenges, approaches, and successes. And then on the spiritual level, it is not just the priest who is providing guidance. The ultimate spiritual guide is our Lord, who himself is the way, the truth, and the life. He works through the priest to minister to his people. That’s why it’s so important to choose not just an old wise priest, but more importantly, a holy priest. The old wise priest may be aided by lot of human experience, but a holy priest is aided by being open to the divine wisdom being poured through him to bring wisdom and counsel to the people he serves.

“Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?” Jesus is not saying that we should not correct one another, or that we must be sinless before we correct one another. This is the intentionally-impossible measure set by secular society (who, ironically, does not hesitate to criticize and judge), because people do not like to be told that what they want, what they find pleasurable, is sinful, and destructive of their human nature, goodness, and salvation. Jesus is not saying that we should let sinners just ignorantly embrace sin. We are called to speak God’s truth, because it sets us free… even when it is unpopular. But Jesus is saying that our own example should not be scandalous. (“Scandalous” comes from the Greek word “skandalon,” which was an obstacle, a stumbling block. Our example should not be an obstacle or stumbling block for those seeking Christ and an example of the Christian life.) And we should be very delicate in correcting sins where we are struggling ourselves. We don’t want to come across as a hypocrite. We want to come across as a humble, struggling sinner helping another struggling sinner, in an area where the wisdom we’ve gained might be of use to them. It’s humble, honest, and inspired by love. If someone is not receptive to your help, it might be because you’re not the person they want to receive correction from in that area, or they’re not ready to accept correction in that area. In that case, pray that God will bring them the wisdom they need. Continue to love them, and maybe there will be another opportunity to help them.

“A good tree does not bear rotten fruit, nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit. For every tree is known by its own fruit.” “A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good, but an evil person out of a store of evil produces evil; for from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.” The good tree is a good person, and the good fruit are holiness and virtue. The bad tree is a bad person, and the rotten fruit are poor choices and vice. It’s not that good people are perfectly good and bad people are perfectly bad. It’s that to be an effective messenger of Christ, you can’t have a scandalous moral life, in flagrant contradiction to what the Christian Church and the Christian scriptures teach. That’s the blind, by bad example, misleading the blind, who are looking to them for guidance. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Who you are speaks so loudly I can’t hear what you’re saying.” Certainly we need to be conscientious about our words, because they reveal the content of our hearts. But even more so we need to patiently and consistently build a moral life of integrity, truth, and virtue, because our actions are more convincing than our words.

The 7th century monk “The Venerable” Bede, teaches us: “Do you want to know which are the bad trees and what are the bad fruits? The apostle [St. Paul] teaches us: “fornication, impurity, self-indulgence, idolatry, sorcery, malice, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, conflict, factions, envy, murder, drunkenness, arousing, and things of this sort” (Gal 5:19-21). He subsequently lists the fruits of a good tree. He says, “The fruit, however, of the Spirit, is charity, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, faith, gentleness, self-control” (Gal 5:22-23).” Often, like the one linked above, an Examination of Conscience is based on the Ten Commandments. But this list from St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians is another option. Certainly we can have characteristics from time to time from both lists, and we need to wage war against those characteristics of ours on the first list. But we should be very concerned when people associate us more with the first list. That would mean that, at least to those people (however accurate their opinion might be), our example is a scandal of what the Christian life is. 

In our first reading, from the Old Testament book of Sirach, we get a series of short images, like we heard from Jesus in the Gospel. These images are about testing a man’s character by what he says, especially in times of difficulty. “When a sieve is shaken, the husks appear; so do one’s faults when one speaks.” When the wheat crops are brought in, they’re sifted. The good wheat falls through the sieve, and what’s left is the bad stuff left over. When a man is stressed, his guard is down and what’s truly in his heart is revealed. Remember the courtroom scene from “A Few Good Men,” and Tom Cruise’s character succeeded in getting Jack Nicholson’s character to get enraged and speak his mind, and “You want the truth!? You can’t handle the truth!”

The second example: “As the test of what the potter molds is in the furnace, so in tribulation is the test of the just.” If a work of pottery is poorly crafted, when it’s put into to the kiln, it explodes in the fire. The same with a person who lacks the character to keep it together under fire. He explodes… at others, blasting them with the shrapnel of his temper… which can cause scandal.

The third image is the connection to the Gospel: “The fruit of a tree shows the care it has had; so too does one’s speech disclose the bent of one’s mind.” If someone who grew sycamore trees, for example, carefully poked a hole in the fruit as it’s growing, it grows bigger and is much juicier. The fruit shows the care taken in developing it. Likewise, the fruit of one’s speech and actions reveal the care taken in developing one’s mind and heart.

The psalm for today shows the other side of the coin. “It is good to give thanks to the LORD … They that are planted in the house of the LORD … They shall bear fruit even in old age; vigorous and sturdy shall they be …” The way to purify our heart is to practice piety, gratitude, and the other virtues, which are given by the Holy Spirit. Our words show what is in our hearts, but the reverse is also true: the heart and words don’t just go from inside out; it can also go from outside-in. We can develop our hearts by using our words to praise God and letting him mold our hearts (to be like His own Sacred Heart!).

We become like those we spend time with. If we spend a lot of time with blind guides and rotten trees, who don’t lead us to holiness and virtue, we suffer the rotten fruit of that influence. When we spend time with good guides and good trees, then we cultivate better fruit. We learn better how to respond when the heat rises, when our guard is compromised, when our heart is revealed. It will reveal integrity and virtue, and we will be a good example of following Christ, for those who look to us, and those who listen to our words.

St. Paul, in our second reading, is continuing to teach us about the resurrection of the faithful, after the example of Christ, and how we will share also in the resurrected body.  And when the faithful, the Mystical Body of Christ, are reassembled in heaven with it’s Head, who is Christ Himself, Satan, Sin, and Death will be finally defeated and vanquished.

In the midst of our reading, St. Paul says, “The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.” Death is being portrayed as a poisonous stinging creature of the dangerous wilderness, like a scorpion. And Death kills us by successfully tempting us to sin. Sin is what causes our separation from God, who is the source of life. So like a scorpion stings its victims with its poison and kills them, Death stings its victims with the poison of sin, which kills them.

The Law (given through Israel’s Holy Scriptures) is what God has provided humanity about what is good and evil. The Law in a sense is written into Creation. What is good and evil is not because it is written in the Scriptures; but the Scriptures reveal to us what is true of (the Law of) all Creation. St. John Chrysostom wrote, “Without the law sin was weak. It existed, to be sure, but it did not have the power to condemn, because although evil occurred, it was not clearly pointed out. Thus it was no small change which the law brought about. First, it caused us to know sin better, and then it increased the punishment.” So it is the written Law of the Holy Scriptures, now known to humanity, that increases sin, because now what is evil is clearly known and yet freely chosen. So “the power of sin” to condemn humanity is the law given to us and to which we are held accountable.

And so this is why we as Christians, who have the fullness of revelation of Truth in Jesus Christ Our Lord, must, out of love for God and our neighbor, give good witness (and not scandal) by our example, our words, and our actions. Even though not all of humanity knows (or accepts the truth of) the law, the evil we do still harms us, and distorts us, away from the image we need to have, if we are to recognize our sins, humbly call on God’s mercy, and be granted everlasting salvation.

In the Church’s ordination rite, the Bishop exhorts the man being ordained, “Believe what you read, teach what you believe, and practice what you teach.” The same applies to us: With diligence and prayer read the scriptures, with love and patience share scriptures, and with discipline and integrity, live the scriptures.

So our discussion of the Sermon on the Plain ends as it began, with our call to serve as God’s prophetic people: to speak and live God’s Word of guidance, correction, and encouragement; to share His Word in season and out of season, in truth and love; to give example of the apparently upside-down wisdom of the Kingdom of God, embracing humility, simplicity, and suffering as Jesus, the Word of God, did; and to deny ourselves, pick up our cross, and follow Him. 

Next week, the first Sunday of Lent. God bless you!

“Love,” by Ukrainian artist Alexander Milov

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German Lutheran pastor in Nazi Germany. He preached non-violent Christian discipleship and resistance, encouraging Christians in the virtue of loving one’s enemies. He was arrested after getting caught helping Jews escape Germany, and he was executed in a concentration camp. Bonhoeffer wrote in his book The Cost of Discipleship: “We are approaching an age of widespread persecution. Our adversaries seek to root out the Christian Church because they cannot live side by side with us. So what shall we do? We shall pray. It will be a prayer of earnest love for those who stand around and gaze at us with eyes aflame with hatred, and who have perhaps already raised their hands to kill us.” A few weeks ago, I made reference to Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who said, “Somehow we must be able to stand up against our most bitter opponents and say: ‘We shall match your capacity to inflict suffering by our capacity to endure suffering… Do to us what you will, and we will still love you.”

We talked about the difficulty of being God’s prophetic people, of living and speaking God’s love, his light, into the darkness and sin of our world, and suffering for it, if necessary. In our readings this week, we get specific instructions, and core principles, of what this looks like in Christian life. The model, of course, is Christ, our Lord, who on the cross showed us that divine power is perfectly expressed in what our world sees as weakness, but in reality uses the tools of the enemy—sin, suffering, and death (which the enemy introduced into humanity as the consequence of the Fall)—and turn them into the tools of Christian virtue—mercy, joy, and love.

Our Gospel reading is the continuation of Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain in the Gospel of Luke. “Jesus said to his disciples: ‘To you who hear, I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.’” Perhaps there’s someone who cost you a job; maybe destroyed your marriage; someone who hurt or killed a friend or family member; someone who assaulted or violated you or a loved one; someone who never stops gossiping, or is a constant drain on your nerves? The one who always causes problems in your family, or at work, or in your neighborhood? Someone who broke your heart, someone who seems to look for ways to cause you problems. Maybe the person who drove slowly in front of you or didn’t use their blinkers. Maybe there’s a politician or someone in the church; anyone from the person who you ignore to the person who fills you with rage, all of them, Jesus tells us, we must love them, do good to them, bless them, and pray for them. That’s what it is to deny ourselves, pick up our cross daily, and to follow Him. It’s the example He gave from the cross, as He prayed to the Father for the forgiveness of those who hated and crucified Him.

The logic of Jesus’ instructions here is the same “Logic of the Kingdom” evident in the Beatitudes. It is not the self, not victory, not retaliation, not pleasure, not earthly power or riches, that makes one happy. It is agape love, self-giving, generous, appreciative, caring love that is the only thing that truly makes us happy. Because we are made in the image of God, and it is the divine love exchanged within the Holy Trinity that truly makes us happy. That is what we are made for. That is the love of the Kingdom of God. That is the love that Christ embraced in allowing himself to be brutally and tortuously crucified, because he knew that by it, humanity would be freed from slavery to sin, and have the invitation to the divine life of grace.  

The key to the Christian life, to imitating Christ, and the saints, is the difference between reacting naturally, and responding supernaturally. We all have our habitual way of dealing with people and events when they affect us negatively. And if we don’t think about it, we give our natural reaction. The problem is that our nature is fallen and inclined to sin, to selfishness and pride, to fear and impatience. So that’s the nature of our natural reaction—often self-oriented and sinful. But we are rational human beings, we can choose how we respond. And we are Christians infused with divine grace, so we can do better, and are called to do better, than the reflex of our fallen nature. We are called to be supernatural in a natural world; to draw our response from supernatural grace, rather than our natural inclination.

“For if you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do the same. If you lend money to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners…” So Jesus here is saying that to confine ourselves to what makes sense even on the natural level, is not to make a supernatural, transcendent choice. If we’re going to receive what we give, then it’s merely an even exchange; it is not virtuously generous and self-sacrificing.

Jesus teaches us, “But rather, love your enemies and do good to them, and lend expecting nothing back; then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.” Good thing for us, too, isn’t it? As St. Paul says in his letter to the Romans (5:8), “But God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” God, in Christ, showed us what kind of forgiving, generous love He has for us, even while we rail against Him. That is the kind of forgiving, generous love we as Christians are called to have and to show to others. “Be merciful, as your heavenly father is merciful,” Jesus tells us.

How do we live faith? We make a sacrifice that won’t be justly repaid in this world, but relies on our faith that it might be repaid in the kingdom, in heaven. That’s where we are to put up our treasure. And we can’t just rely on our natural goodness, however developed that might or might not be. We rely on the grace from God, the divine love of Christ within us, by which we are made children of the Most High. And it’s going to take that grace, isn’t it, to love the one who did the worst imaginable sin against you or your family? To pray for the forgiveness and salvation of the worst person in your life.

Saint Vincent de Paul was well known for practicing “the pause.”  This is also a modern piece of wisdom you can practice, especially when you’re already stressed out and someone’s about to make you lose your… serenity. But Saint Vincent de Paul was known for having a short moment before he would respond to someone. And he said, in that moment, that pause, he would pray, that his response would be holy, would be beneficial for the salvation of himself and for those he was speaking with. That little pause of prayer, of inviting God’s grace into that moment, is an example of learning to go beyond having a natural, reflexive reaction, to reaching up to having a supernatural, chosen response. Practice the pause.

“Stop judging and you will not be judged.” That’s a popular one today, isn’t it? In recent times, it’s been the battle cry of relativists, those who oppose an objective belief in right and wrong moral acts, and Christians taking a moral stand on a social moral issue. Jesus’ words are true, of course. We don’t judge people. Or at least we shouldn’t. I have found it very useful to apply what’s called “Hanlon’s Razor,” which says, “Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.” In other words, be charitable in your assumptions of someone else’s reasons for acting a certain way: “Don’t assume someone did something to be mean if they reasonably just might have done it out of a lack of awareness.”

So we don’t judge people as evil. But we can and should judge actions as sinful. For example, abortion is a sin. That doesn’t mean we call someone who just had an abortion a hell-bound murderer. It means we love and pray for them, because it’s quite possible they might be suffering, or soon suffer, horrible regret for what we know is sinful, and they did out of ignorance, or fear, or pressure. That kind of patience and compassion is how we would want God to minister to us, and so that is how we minister to others. We certainly don’t help people experience the love of God when we confirm stereotypes of Christians as condemning people and presuming to know their disposition in God’s view. And yet that is quite different than those who pray and offer support outside of an abortion clinic, and are accused by customers and staff for aggressively imposing their religion or harassing customers, if this isn’t really the case. 

In our first reading, David as a young man, gives us an example of our gospel lesson. King Saul (Israel’s first king, whose later death would lead to the accession of his successor, David) was an incompetent, jealous, and insecure king who hated the young David because David was more popular. Our reading says Saul went out with three thousand men against David. Three thousand men!? That’s a lot of hatred in Saul’s heart. When David and his friend found Saul and his army asleep, his friend offered to kill Saul on the spot. But David wouldn’t let him, and instead simply stole Saul’s spear and water jug from near his head, to later show Saul that David had been given the chance to react to Saul’s hatred by David’s own act of hatred—to kill Saul—but David instead chose mercy, and hopefully Saul himself would respond with mercy. Which he later did.

In the next verse after our reading—the last verse of the chapter, it says, “Then Saul said to David: ‘Blessed are you, my son David! You shall certainly succeed in whatever you undertake.’ David went his way, and Saul returned to his place.“

If David had killed Saul, Saul would have died with that hatred in his heart. David gave him the opportunity to convert to forgiveness, and reconcile their relationship. And doing so, David might have saved Saul’s soul. That’s a real display of love for one’s enemies, and hope for their salvation.

Our fallen human nature tends to think predominantly in physical terms. We’ve seen images of Jesus all muscled out like he’s on steroids… Rambo Jesus. That’s a depiction of Jesus’ power, interpreted through an all-too-human lens. Jesus, physically, was fit. He was a carpenter, he labored with his physical body. And of course the real strength of Jesus was beyond powerful. But not because of his muscles. Rather, because of his virtue, his meekness, his humility, his willingness to serve and to suffer for others. “Super Buff Jesus” completely misses the point of Jesus’ true message of divine power, a power that even the tiny Mother Teresa could manifest. 

Likewise, our fallen human nature often looks to solve problems at the physical level, even when the problems are not essentially physical problems. Very often, our problems are spiritual problems. The most important problems of our world are never going to be solved by legislation, by resolutions, by summits, by international councils. The most important problems of our world are spiritual problems… Satan, evil, and sin. And so our most important tools for combatting these spiritual problems—our most important weapons against our real spiritual enemies—are not guns, walls, and resolutions, but prayers, Masses, and saints. As Boenhoffer said, “So what shall we do? We shall pray. It will be a prayer of earnest love for those who stand around and gaze at us with eyes aflame with hatred.” As Dr. MLK, Jr., said, “Do to us what you will, and we will still love you.” The weapons of prayer, humility, and trust in divine love are far more powerful than any military force. And it is only these that are effective against the true enemy of world peace. To quote Alfred Lord Tennyson, “More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.”

I recently uploaded the recording and transcript of an incredible lecture by Dr. Peter Kreeft on how we might successfully wage the culture war to save our world. I highly recommend it! We cannot fight and win this battle at the level of our fallen humanity, with the weapons of human warfare. We can only successfully fight and win this battle—this war—with the weapons of Christ: sanctity, virtue, prayer, and divine mercy.

Paul in our second reading speaks about the image we provide. We first have the image of Adam—natural humanity, which was then by Adam distorted and corrupted by sin, and our actions and fallen nature reflect that. But we are called to reflect the New Adam, the spiritual man, not by nature, but by choice and faith, to resemble Christ, by the grace within us, and our response to it—our life of grace. “Just as we have borne the image of the earthly one, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly one.” So let us make the effort to heal from our old sinful habits of the flesh and instead cultivate new spiritual habits of grace, that we might give witness to the beautiful life that all humanity is called to: life in union with Our Lord Jesus Christ: the divine life of mercy, joy, and love.