Go to Readings for 3rd Sunday of Easter (Year A).

In the season of Easter, our first reading isn’t from the Old Testament, but from the New Testament book of the Acts of the Apostles. We see the early Church wrestling with the challenge of applying the meaning of Jesus and his teachings as the first and second generation of Christians, spreading the good news, led and inspired by the power of the Holy Spirit, as more and more come to believe through them that Jesus indeed is the way, the truth, and the life.

We have one reading from the Old Testament, the Psalm, then in the Gospel, our encounter with the Jesus on the day of his resurrection, then in our first reading, we see Peter preaching on the day of Pentecost, and then a letter of St. Peter to the Church as our second reading, encouraging us and sending us out into our world to continue the work of the Church, to be the continuation of the life, the presence, and the ministry of Jesus to our age, to those around us. “Bloom where you’re planted.”

In our Gospel reading, we read, “That very day, the first day of the week, two of Jesus’ disciples were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus, and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.” That very day means the same day as the gospel was just talking about. Immediately before our reading is the discovery of the empty tomb, first by the women, and then by Peter.

“And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.” So, they are Jesus’ disciples, they’re walking away from Jerusalem three days after the crucifixion, and Jesus himself joins them. But as we have already seen, Jesus can appear to his disciples in a way that they don’t immediately recognize him. He looks different somehow. We saw it with Mary Magdalene, we’ll see it later with the Apostles on the seashore. We see it here, and we’ll see it in a special way at the end of our gospel reading.

He asked them, “What are you discussing as you walk along?” They stopped, looking downcast. One of them, named Cleopas…” Cleopas, we believe probably to be the same person as Clopas, was a relative of the Holy Family. In John’s Gospel, we see the women standing at the foot of the cross: “Mary, Mary’s sister, the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.” There’s an ambiguity of whether “Mary’s sister, the wife of Clopas” is one person or two people. Ancient interpreters such as Eusebius and St. Jerome interpret this as one person: That Clopas is the brother of Saint Joseph, and his wife is mentioned in Scripture as “the other Mary, the mother of James and Joses,” these men who are elsewhere called the brothers of the Lord. But as we see, they are more precisely cousins of Jesus, and the Blessed Mother’s sister, called “the other Mary,” is more precisely her sister-in-law. Also, many biblical interpreters say that in our Gospel reading for today, the other disciple walking with Cleopas/Clopas on the road to Emmaus might his wife, this same Mary.

Anyway, “Cleopas said to him in reply, ‘Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know of the things that have taken place there in these days?’ And he replied to them, ‘What sort of things?’” Now the scriptures do mention the time that Jesus wept. But they don’t say much about his sense of humor. But here, the irony is so rich. They say to Jesus, “Are you the only one who doesn’t know what just happened?” Who knows better than Jesus himself! Not only what was seen, but what was unseen during his three days in the tomb, his descent to the netherworld, the realm of the dead, and his resurrection. But Jesus just goads them on. “Really? What sort of things happened?”

And they relate the story of Holy Week, and even including the women finding the empty tomb, that morning. And even after that, they had left, downcast, because clearly, to them, three days later was not only merely dead but really most sincerely dead. And they don’t call him Lord or Messiah, but in their disappointment they downgrade him to just “a prophet mighty in deed and word.”

“And he said to them, ‘Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?’ Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them what referred to him in all the Scriptures.” Now it doesn’t say that they recognize him yet. But Jesus here gives us our example of Christian biblical interpretation. St. Augustine beautifully said that the New Testament lies hidden in the Old, and the Old is revealed in the New. The Church calls this “typology,” how Jesus shows them how the Old Testament, from Moses through the Prophets, point to Christ as their fulfillment, how the seeds of the Christian faith are planted way back from the beginning, and the figures, events, and words have their spiritual fulfillment through Jesus and the new covenant. We might say this also becomes like the seed of the Sacred Tradition of the Church, not necessarily written down, but they lens by which the Church understands, interprets, and applies the Scriptures.

“And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight.” So, if you’re attentive, you’ll recognize this sequence of actions of Jesus with the bread. Because hear it almost every time Jesus does the miraculous feeding of the multitudes, and did the same thing the night of the Last Supper, and he does the same thing in the person of the Priest at every Mass. “On the day before he was to suffer, on the night of the Last Supper, he took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to his disciples.” At the end of the Gospel reading today, it says, “the two recounted what had taken place on the way and how he was made known to them in the breaking of bread.” That was the original way of referring to the Eucharist. And what happens in the Eucharist, Jesus makes the bread into his own body, in anticipation of, in connection with, his body being given up on the cross. “Take this, all of you, and eat of it, for this is my body, which will be given up for you.” Sitting with these two disciples, whose minds were opened to understand his revelation, he offers the ritual of the breaking of the bread, the Eucharist, but then what? He vanished from their sight! Was it because Jesus changed his mind and once again prevented them from recognizing him? No. It was so that they would recognize him in the breaking of the bread, in the Eucharist. This is my body. This is how his body is present to us in the Church. A human person is spirit and body. The Holy Spirit is how he continues to be with us in spirit; the Eucharist is how he continues to be with us in body, in the flesh. This is what he wants to open our eyes to see and recognize.

“Then [the two] said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?’ So, they set out at once and returned to Jerusalem.” Remember at the end of John 6, after a miraculous feeding of the multitude, and he is teaching them that his flesh and blood and true food and drink, he says to them, “Does this shock you? What if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life, while the flesh is of no avail. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and life.”

Jesus doesn’t feed us with his crucified and dead flesh, but his risen, supernatural, transfigured flesh, of humanity healed from the effects of sin and death, that those who eat his flesh and drink his blood might abide in him and he in them, us. It is our humanity fed by his flesh renewed by his spirit that gives life, despite appearances. Don’t let the eyes of your flesh deny the true presence of Jesus but let Jesus open your eyes that you recognize him in the breaking of the bread. That is the meaning of “the flesh is of no avail.” He doesn’t say “his flesh,” “my flesh” is of no avail, that would undermine the entire reality of the incarnation, the crucifixion, and the resurrection, much less the Eucharist. The limitations of the flesh, your physical eyes that are spiritually blind, let them be opened that you might receive him, be fed and nourished, and be the continuation of his body in the world, your hands and feet, your heart, your words and actions of divine love.

That was just the first day of the week, the day of the resurrection, Sunday, when Jesus broke bread with his disciples. In the morning, before this, as we have seen, was the discovery of the empty tomb. And in the evening, after this, the apostles encounter Jesus in the locked upper room. The evening encounter will then be repeated the following week, with Thomas among them. This series of encounters might be the inspiration for the Church to celebrate Sunday, the “first day”/”eighth day” (the day after the Jewish sabbath, on the 7th day), as the new covenant sabbath, but it doesn’t explicitly say that in the scriptures. On the fiftieth day after that, on the day named for the Greek word for fiftieth, which is Pentecost, we see Peter, after he was reconciled with Jesus on the seashore, after leading the Apostles to select Matthias to replace the empty office of Judas, after having prayed with the Apostles and the Blessed Mother in the upper room, and now newly anointed with the Holy Spirit, Peter, being the outspoken voice of the newly born Church in her identity and mission in the Spirit, proclaims, “This man, [Jesus,] delivered up by the set plan and foreknowledge of God, you killed, using lawless men to crucify him. But God raised him up, releasing him from the throes of death, because it was impossible for him to be held by it.” Then he quotes the Psalm that we also proclaimed today, Psalm 16, that David here is speaking not of himself, for David’s tomb was there in Jerusalem. So David was speaking of his successor, a Son of David, King of the Jews, who would be on the Throne of Israel long after him, “[my flesh] will dwell in hope, because you will not abandon my soul to the netherworld, nor will you suffer your holy one to see corruption. You have made known to me the paths of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence.” Peter uses this psalm as pointing to Jesus, just as Jesus had taught his disciples to do when he opened their eyes and their hearts to see how the Old Testament is fulfilled in him. And Peter concludes, “God raised this Jesus; of this we are all witnesses. Exalted at the right hand of God…” adding apostolic witness to the authority of Scripture.

At the conclusion (which will be our gospel reading for next week) of this first homily of Peter, which goes on much longer than I have, it says, “Now when they heard this, they were cut to the heart, and they asked Peter and the other apostles, ‘What are we to do, my brothers?’ Peter said to them, ‘Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.’… Those who accepted his message were baptized, and about three thousand persons were added that day.” Not a bad first homily, Peter!

Then, lastly, in our second reading, Peter writes his first encyclical, a letter to the whole church, in which he says, “If you invoke as Father him who judges impartially according to each one’s works, [then] conduct yourselves with reverence during the time of your sojourning…” How we live, what we do, does matter, and this is what it means to confess Jesus and proclaim him as Lord. Jesus himself said, “You call me, Lord, Lord, but you do not do what I say.”

Let us invoke the Father, and conduct ourselves with reverence. Let us allow Jesus to open our eyes, that our hearts might burn with in us with love for our living Lord as we live out the truth that sets us free, the truth of the Word of God who became flesh, a body, and dwelt among us, and offered himself, and rose from the dead, that we might have new life in him. Let us be nourished and give thanks for the true presence of Jesus which is the Eucharist, and then let us see and serve the presence of Jesus our Lord in all those around us.

Homily for the 5th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A) (go to readings)

Today, February 8, is the Feast Day of Saint Josephine Margaret Bakhita. She is the patron saint of those affected by the nightmare of human trafficking and modern slavery, which affects an estimated 50 million people in today’s world. Bakhita was born in Sudan about 1869 as the daughter of the tribal chieftain of the Daju people. Because of her family’s prominence in the village, she recalled that she grew up happy and that as a child, she did not know suffering.

Sometime about the year 1877, Bakhita was kidnapped by Arab slave traders, and although she was just a child, she was forced with others to make a 600-mile barefoot march to the capital city, and she was sold at least twice just on the journey. Over the following twelve years she would be sold to different families over a dozen times, sometimes being beaten so badly, scarred and branded, and being incapacitated by her injuries, that she had forgotten her childhood name, and was given the name Bakhita, which means “fortunate”.

Eventually, in 1883, she was bought by an Italian ambassador to Sudan, who took her back to Venice, Italy, and they treated her well. When he and his wife had to travel back to Sudan, they entrusted Bakhita to stay with a local community of nuns, the Canossian Sisters in Venice.

Staying with the sisters, she had a voracious appetite for their Christian faith, and she came believe. She said that she had always believed in God, but didn’t know who he was. The sisters answered her questions, and she was deeply moved by her time with them and wanted to become Christian herself. About this time, the ambassador and his wife returned to Venice and came to reclaim Bakhita from the sisters, but she refused to leave. The ambassador spent several days trying to convince her, before complaining to the authorities. The case went to court, and the court ruled that British-owned Sudan had outlawed slavery before Bakhita was born, and the Italian government had never recognized slavery as legal, therefore Bakhita was a free person.

She immediately joined the Canossian Sisters and prepared for the sacraments of initiation into the Church, which she received from Cardinal Giuseppe Sarto, who had argued in her favor in court, and who in 1903 became Pope Pius X, and she was baptized Josephine Margaret Fortunata.  Throughout the rest of her 42 years, Josephine was known for her calm voice, her joy, and her smile. Whenever someone asked her how she was, she answered, “As the master wishes.” She had several speaking engagements to the sisters preparing to do mission work in Africa. It was said, “her mind was always on God, and her heart in Africa.” Her special charisma and reputation for sanctity were noticed by her order. During the Second World War, she shared the fears and hopes of the townspeople, who considered her a saint and felt protected by her presence. Bombs damaged the town, but without a single casualty. She died on February 8, 1947. For three days, her body lay in repose while thousands of people arrived to pay their respects. She was canonized as a saint by Pope John Paul II in 2000.

I believe it is important for us to know the saints beyond just their names. They are our brothers and sisters in our Christian family, and they are our heroes for our inspiration and imitation as we strive to be the saints we are called to be. In 2007, Pope Benedict XVI used her story as part of his encyclical on hope, “Spe salve”. “Caritas Bakhita House” in London, which provides accommodation and support for women escaping human trafficking, is named in her honor. In 2023, Canadian sculptor Timothy Schmalz centered his human-trafficking sculpture “Let the Oppressed Go Free” on Bakhita, depicting her opening a trapdoor releaseing captives, representing the hidden, underground nature of modern human trafficking and slavery.

Today, the Knights of Columbus, working with the Arise Foundation, are working hard around the world, especially in those places hard hit by human trafficking: The Philippines, a global hub for human trafficking and sex slavery, Nigeria, with the terrorist group Boko Haram and other jihadist groups causing 3 million displaced persons, creating circumstances ripe for trafficking, and the war in Ukraine, with women and children being abducted by traffickers falsely promising them transportation to safety. Bishop Senior has the problem of human trafficking close to his heart, as he has promoted talks and prayer services on this topic throughout our diocese. The Church’s work, particularly through the Knights of Columbus, are witness to the Church’s desire to honor and protect the inalienable dignity (of all human life, not just the vulnerable unborn life in the womb, as we are often accused), but all human life, in every stage and every condition, as a sacred gift to be honored and protected. Hopefully you have seen the movie, “Sound of Freedom.” If you haven’t, it’s a difficult but important movie. Jim Caviezel portrays the true story of Tim Ballard, a former US government agent who embarks on a mission to rescue children from sex traffickers in South America. And today, February 8, the Feast Day of St. Josephine Bakhita, is, for the Church, the International Day of Prayer and Awareness Against Human Trafficking.

I spent the time talking about this because it is an excellent example of the message of our readings today, to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. We will often hear people described as “real salt of the earth people” in the sense that they’re basically good, simple folks. But Jesus meant more than that. Salt does three things (if it isn’t ruined by impurities and robbed of its effectiveness).

It preserves that which it salts. Salt was used to keep meat fresh before we had refrigerators. It kept the food from going bad. We as Christians are called to preserve the world by how we live in it, in the values we live out, in contradiction to the values of the world darkened by sin.

Salt adds flavor. Salt is in almost everything: French fries and fast food, obviously, snack food, cheese, frozen dinners, and if it doesn’t have salt, we often add salt. Salt not only adds flavor, but brings out the natural flavor of food. We as Christians are called to bring out the best flavor of humanity, to encourage people in the gifts and charisms of their character, as well as the best things about life in this world, recognizing them as gifts and blessings from God, and celebrating them. Even our sufferings can be honored as helping us to grow in holiness and closeness with Jesus who suffered for us.

Salt heals. Particularly in saltwater form, salt aids healing through antiseptic, anti-inflammatory, and absorption properties that cleanse wounds, soothe skin conditions, reduce muscle fatigue, and alleviate sore throats. Obviously, as Christians, we are called to heal the world, again, by how we live in it, exercising our faith in the world, holding to our moral ground against the mockery and opposition of the world. And also, by our prayer, worship and celebration of the Mass, by which the healing and saving grace of the Paschal Mystery of Christ continues to be made present in the world.

We know that Jesus is the Light of the World. But in our gospel reading, Jesus says to us, “You are the light of the world.” Of course, we are the light of the world by shining forth the light of Christ, as the moonlight is only a reflection of light from the sun. So Christ calls us to be the ongoing reflection of his life and ministry in our world. And Jesus adds, “A city set on a mountain (or “a city set on a hill”) cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket; it is set on a lampstand, where it gives light to all in the house.” Which means yes, we have the light of truth, the light of salvation, but it’s not just for us; it’s for us to shine for others to see, to guide their lives by, to be attracted to in the darkness of their own situation, and have hope, have meaning, have life. Not for our own sake. But why? Jesus says, “Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.” So that they, too, can have faith in God, the source of all goodness, all faith, hope, and love, and healing, and life. Jerusalem, of course, was a city set on a hill, on Mt. Zion, and the Israelites were called to be the bright, shining example to the world by the wisdom of their laws and society. And the New Israel, the Church, is called to be so, even more.

And what is that light? We see it in our First Reading from the Old Testament: “Thus says the LORD: Break bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and do not turn your back on your own. Then your light shall break forth like the dawn… If you remove from your midst oppression, false accusation and malicious speech; if you bestow your bread on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted; then light shall rise for you in the darkness…” These instructions are among what the Church calls the “corporal and spiritual works of mercy,” the way in which we shine with the glory of heavenly wisdom and goodness, shine with the light of Christ’s love for the world, for others, our families, our neighbors, our enemies, and strangers, like the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus’ answer to the question, “Who, then, is my neighbor?”

We are called to be salt because salt changes that which it salts, it is different than that which it salts, and so it can have the beneficial effect of salt. Light shines bright in darkness. These are signs to us of Jesus preparing us to be treated like him: a sign that others will try to contradict, a voice that others will try to silence, a light that others will try to extinguish. And that is when the Church most needs to be the Church: the sign of the cross, the voice of the prophet, the light of truth, love, and hope.

BONUS: My favorite excerpt from G. K. Chesterton's "St. Thomas Aquinas"

The Saint is a medicine because he is an antidote. Indeed that is why the saint is often a martyr; he is mistaken for a poison because he is an antidote. He will generally be found restoring the world to sanity by exaggerating whatever the world neglects, which is by no means always the same element in every age. Yet each generation seeks its saint by instinct; and he is not what the people want, but rather what the people need.

This is surely the very much mistaken meaning of those words to the first saints, "Ye are the salt of the earth," which caused the Ex-Kaiser to remark with all solemnity that his beefy Germans were the salt of the earth; meaning thereby merely that they were the earth's beefiest and therefore best. But salt seasons and preserves beef, not because it is like beef; but because it is very unlike it. Christ did not tell his apostles that they were only the excellent people, or the only excellent people, but that they were the exceptional people; the permanently incongruous and incompatible people; and the text about the salt of the earth is really as sharp and shrewd and tart as the taste of salt. It is because they were the exceptional people, that they must not lose their exceptional quality. "If salt lose its savour, wherewith shall it be salted?" is a much more pointed question than any mere lament over the price of the best beef. If the world grows too worldly, it can be rebuked by the Church; but if the Church grows too worldly, it cannot be adequately rebuked for worldliness by the world.

Therefore it is the paradox of history that each generation is converted by the saint who contradicts it most.

Homily for the 2nd Sunday of Advent (Year A readings) (go to readings)
Isaiah 11:1-10
Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 12-13, 17
Romans 15:4-9
Matthew 3:1-12

In 1830, George Wilson was convicted of robbery the U.S. Mail and endangering the life of the carrier in Pennsylvania and was sentenced to be hanged. At the request of George Wilson’s friends, President Andrew Jackson issued a pardon for Wilson. But he refused to accept it. The matter went to the Supreme Court. Chief Justice Marshall wrote in the court’s decision that Wilson would have to be executed. “”A pardon is a deed, to the validity of which delivery is essential, and delivery is not complete without acceptance. It may then be rejected by the person to whom it is tendered; and if it be rejected, we have discovered no power in this court to force it upon him.” If it is refused, it is no pardon. Hence, George Wilson must be hanged.

Last week we talked about the preparation of our hearts for the Advent, the coming to us, the arrival of Jesus. We join in the generations of anticipation experienced by ancient Israel. We as the Church want to always be prepared for his final coming, whatever day and hour that might be. We prepare our hearts to receive him every day in the Eucharist, and in his presence within us in the Holy Spirit. In today’s gospel reading for the second Sunday of Advent, we are being prepared for the arrival, the beginning in the world, of the earthly ministry of Jesus, the message of Jesus.

Saint John the Baptist is preparing people for the most important event in the history of existence. In the long history of Israel, there was a promise at the very start. The promise from the moment of the Fall of Humanity in the Garden of Eden, and our expulsion from Paradise. And that promise begins back “in the beginning”–in Genesis 3–that despite humanity’s disobedience to God, that God would fix it. That this condition of separation of humanity from God would be healed, and we could repent and be reconciled to God, at long last, restored to Paradise. God said in Genesis 3 that there would be an offspring of the woman who would crush the head of the offspring of the serpent. That God would prepare humanity in a “school of trust” to learn that God is for us, that God wants us to have happiness and fulfillment, and that we do not need to go outside of God’s will to take care of ourselves and our deepest needs.

[Note: The “school of trust” is a reference to the work, “The Second Greatest Story Ever Told” by the Marian priest, Fr. Michael Gaitley, about the Divine Mercy devotion.]

This promise was the hope of the “Anointed One,” the “Messiah” in Hebrew, the “Christos,” in Greek. Throughout Israel’s history, other promises got braided together with this one.

King David was promised that a Son of David, the Davidic dynasty, would sit on the throne of Israel in glory forever. But when Israel returned from the Babylonian Exile, the new king was not of David’s line, nor was any king afterward. And so, the promise of the long-awaited true King of Israel, the promised Son of David, was added to the Messianic hope, the one who would be anointed to fulfill God’s plan and God’s promise.

After the decline of Israel from its glory during the reign of King David and King Solomon, Israel broke into two kingdoms. The powerful Assyrian Empire destroyed the ten tribes of the northern kingdom, dispersing them throughout all the nations of the world, leaving only the two tribes of the southern Kingdom of Judah (or “Judea,” in Greek/Latin). And so, another part of the hope for the Messiah was that he would restore Israel’s greatness and the unity of the twelve tribes into a single kingdom, and all the world would worship the one true God of Israel.

And lastly, although it was more subtle, God himself had said, in condemning the wicked “shepherds” of Israel who mistreated the flock of God’s people, that God himself would come and shepherd his people, that he would search for the lost sheep and bring them back, that he would bind up those who were wounded, and feed those who were hungry, and gather them to have them graze in green pastures in their own land. And so, there was also the revelation that the Messiah would also, in fact, be divine, be God himself.

And so, St. John the Baptist, looking and acting a lot like the Old Testament Prophet Elijah, who was prophesied to return to herald the coming of the Messiah, was out in the wilderness by the Jordan River, proclaiming “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” The Messianic age, the promised return to paradise, as we see in the strange images of the First Reading from the Prophet Isaiah. “On that day,” Isaiah, says, “a shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse, and from his roots a bud shall blossom.” And this is where we get the traditional list of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord, or reverence), which will rest on this long-awaited bud, who would grow from the stump of Jesse, the father of King David. Isaiah is affirming the promise of the Son of David, the Messiah, the Good Shepherd. And one of the marks of the Messianic age, again, apparently missed by the Israelites (based on the events in the synagogue in Nazareth), but we can see more clearly from our perspective looking back, is that the Messiah will draw the gentiles to himself as well. Which makes sense. If the ten northern tribes, dispersed among all the nations of the world, are to be restored by the Messiah, then the new covenant of the Messiah would have to include all the nations, the whole world. It would be one, holy, and catholic (“universal,” from the Greek, “katholikos”) covenant family.

John not only proclaims the Messiah is near, to “Prepare the way of the Lord,” but he proclaims how we are to do that. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” Why? Because the Messiah is promising mercy, healing, forgiveness, and reconciliation. We desire the wrong things, we love the wrong things, we say and do the wrong things. Our heart is all messed up. He’s promising a new heart. The proclamation of the good news is that God is offering everyone a free heart transplant. But that’s only good news to someone who knows they need a new heart. The invitation of mercy is only good news to those who are aware they need mercy.

Later in the Gospel of Matthew, the Pharisees are going to ask the disciples of Jesus, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” And Jesus will answer them, “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do… I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.” Jesus is not saying that the Pharisees are righteous, but that because they believe they are righteous, they are failing to seek out the physician for themselves. They believe their heart is fine, and so are refusing the freely available heart transplant. They are refusing (like George Wilson) the pardon for the death sentence for their wrongdoing, and so the consequences of their wrongdoing remain upon them.

John is not offering a baptism for the forgiveness of sins, which will only come later with Jesus and the gift of the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins. John is merely offering them a baptism of repentance. A humble, contrite confession that they need a savior, a messiah, a spiritual physician, a pardon, a heart transplant. So that, with them being so urgently and painfully aware of their need, they will hear of the good news of the arrival of the long-awaited Messiah, the Christ, and they will rejoice at the good news, they will seek to find him, and all will be made new.

Homily for 33rd Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year C) (go to readings)
Malachi 3:19-20a
Psalm 98:5-6, 7-8, 9
2 Thessalonians 3:7-12
Luke 21:5-19

“MEMENTO MORI.” Remember that you will have to die. This wisdom from Greek Stoic Philosophy is captured in the psalms as, “Teach us to count our days aright, that we may gain wisdom of heart” (Ps 90:12). And this wisdom can be found in the liturgy of Ash Wednesday, as each of the faithful is marked with a cross of ash on their forehead, with the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” The author of the book of Sirach tells us why this wisdom is important: “in all thy works be mindful of thy last end and thou wilt never sin” (Sir 7:36).

The bulletin column this week is a reflection on the readings as reflections on the end of the world, as we approach the end of the liturgical year. There’s a certain aesthetic, considering our mortality, as the brown autumn leaves leave the trees bare and cover the green grass. We start with our first reading, from the Prophet Malachi, the last book of the Old Testament. “Lo, the day is coming.” What day? The day of the coming of the Lord. The later prophets of the Old Testament were highly critical of the injustices and corruption of Israel, and you think Israel would have learned their lesson by now. But no. The corruption of the temple priesthood, of worship, of the political leaders, corruption that caused the poor and vulnerable to suffer cruel injustices and struggle in poverty. When these Old Testament prophets proclaimed, “Israel, prepare to meet your God,” it was something like, “You wait till your father gets home!” It was the day of reckoning. Or in more Catholic tradition terms, the “Dies Irae,” the Day of Wrath. We must remember that “it is a fearful and terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the living God,” it says in the New Testament letter to the Hebrews. So, this is not just “Old Testament angry God” rhetoric. God is indeed merciful. But let us not forget what condemnation of our sins his mercy is saving us from, if we repent in faith.

“…blazing like an oven, when all the proud and all evildoers will be stubble, and the day that is coming will set them on fire, leaving them neither root nor branch, says the LORD of hosts.” When the fire of God comes, those who have not repented and called upon his mercy will be condemned to eternity without the God of life. As Jesus says in the parable of the twelve virgins, those who are not vigilant and prepared will be locked outside where there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth, according to sweet and gentle Jesus.

There’s a false dichotomy that God in the Old Testament is wrathful and vengeful, and God in the New Testament is merciful and gentle. And some claim that it seems like they’re two different gods. But most of the Scripture’s verses about God’s mercy and care are in the Old Testament. And no one talks about the reality and danger of hell more than Jesus himself. For example, the last line of our first reading from Malachi turns a corner: “But for you who fear my name, there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays.” So a carrot and a stick. God uses both, whatever it takes to get us to choose life in him: the carrot to help us to choose goodness and faithfulness, which win the blessings of the covenants God has made with his people, or the stick to help us to avoid the curses of breaking the covenant by unfaithfulness and sin. For those who remain faithful, and fear his name, or show reverence for him as our God, he will heal our imperfections and take us to himself in eternal joy. Not a hard choice, in theory. But if it were that easy in reality, no one would ever sin.

But that’s the point of “Memento Mori.” It can happen in an instant, and we know not the day nor the hour. It could be on your way home, in your sleep; the Lord could come in a million years, or the Lord could come tomorrow. You can think about that and live in fear, but that’s not a great way to live, and it’s not the way God wants you to live. A much better idea is to live the right way, to live simply, honestly, faithfully, virtuously, and you never need to fear the day or the hour, because you’re always ready. The first letter of John says, “Love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18). If you consider the image of dying unexpectedly and having someone you love going through every bit of your life, cleaning out drawers and closets and basements and boxes, internet history, files, and everything, do you fear what they might find? Do you have secrets and shame? What if, instead, you remember, “Memento Mori,” and live with simplicity and integrity, what you see is what you get, no secrets, no shame, no fear. Just living 100% pure divine love (or if you’re of a certain age, 99+44/100ths % pure, clean as Ivory).

Our second reading, finishing up weeks of going through Saint Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians, matches up with today’s theme as things are getting wrapped up at the end (the end of the liturgical year, and the end of the world). Paul is instructing the Christian community not to sit back and waste time waiting for the return of the Messiah, getting into other people’s business and not minding one’s own need to be found being a good and prudent servant.

Paul and his co-workers could have required of the community a sort of stipend for their ministry, which would have been just and a normal expectation. But instead, they worked their trades as tentmakers in their off hours, to give a better example, as the Thessalonians needed. “…we instructed you that if anyone was unwilling to work, neither should that one eat.” This does not mean refusing to give alms to the poor, which Jesus explicitly requires of us. This is to be prudent in our almsgiving, not enabling those fully able to work to be unproductive, which is often destructive to virtue and salvation, and the whole community, especially the truly needy.

And finally, in our gospel reading, Jesus and his apostles were on the Mount of Olives, looking over the valley at the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. We are finishing up the Mount Olivet Discourse in the Gospel of Luke, the last part of Jesus’ teaching before he begins Palm Sunday and Holy Week, which we covered back in the spring (at Palm Sunday and Holy Week). And his apostles, a bunch of country bumpkins from up north in Galilee, are marveling at the majesty of the Jerusalem Temple across the valley. And Jesus says, yes, it’s great and beautiful, and “All that you see here–the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.”

So they ask him, really? when will that happen? How will we know it’s about to happen? And here we have, let’s say four, important teachings from our gospel reading.

One. “See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am he,’ and ‘The time has come.’ Do not follow them!” Jesus said in our daily Mass reading on Thursday, “For just as lightning flashes and lights up the sky from one side to the other, so will the Son of Man be in his day.” When the day comes that Jesus returns, no one will mistakenly miss it. It will be a global event, a cosmic event, that will not be mistaken. So until then, just keep doing the holiness thing, and don’t worry about what people are saying about the end of the world.

Two. “When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end… Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place…” So basically, human world history as usual. And these will not be cause for fear, as terrible as they seem. So just keep doing the holiness thing, and don’t worry about what people are saying about the end of the world.

Just as an aside, Dr. Brant Pitre, in his notes on this weekend's readings, mentions that he has a presentation, "Jesus and the End Times: A Catholic View of the Last Days". While (as I say below) focusing excessively on the "end times" can serve as a distraction from focusing on the good we are called to do here and now, the scriptures do tell us about the end times, and so it's good that we understand it, particularly as it can help us keep faith against incorrect things we might hear about the end times. It's a set of five hour-long presentations, and I've only listened to the first one so far, but it is excellent!

Three. “…they will seize and persecute you, they will hand you over to the synagogues and to prisons, and they will have you led before kings and governors because of my name… You will even be handed over by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends, and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name…” Oh, persecution of Christians. Right, So basically, human history as usual. This has happened in the past and will likely happen again, perhaps in the near future. They’re not going to prevent us from going to Mass, from having a church, from celebrating Christmas. They’re going to make it offensive, if not also illegal, to speak against society’s views on gender, marriage, sex, abortion, and whatever else is coming down the pipeline we can’t even imagine yet. And not all the public condemnation and suffering, as we now know, will be legal persecution. It could be vigilante violence.

Four. “Remember, you are not to prepare your defense beforehand, for I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute.” There’s an old phrase in Catholic tradition, “grace builds on nature.” What good you have naturally, grace makes greater. Jesus is not saying, “Don’t learn your faith. Don’t study the bible. Don’t worry about having to understand and explain your faith.” The bible does say, “sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts. Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope, but do it with gentleness and reverence, keeping your conscience clear” (1 Pet 3:15-16). So the more we learn our faith, the more we pray, the more we equip the Holy Spirit to pull out of us what is the perfect response for the moment of necessity. Joan of Arc was asked in her trial, “Do you know whether or not you are in God’s grace?” Her response, filled with faith, was, “If I am not, may God put me there; and if I am, may God so keep me.” That brilliant response didn’t come out of thin air. That was inspired from her deep life of faith. She didn’t sit in her cell preparing to give that answer. But it came from deep within her, and was her response inspired by the Holy Spirit. But also the story of St. Joan of Arc can remind us that just because “your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute” your wisdom doesn’t necessarily mean your persecutors will admit they were wrong and you’ll be free to go.

And lastly, I saw a quote the other day, “If the devil can’t destroy you, he’ll distract you.” (Alternatively, “If the devil can’t make us bad, he’ll make us busy.” – Corrie Ten Boom). A lot of people waste a lot of time uselessly speculating about the end times. Don’t get caught up that game. It is (or can be) a distraction from the present moment, this moment in which we are called to be present and holy and give glory and thanks to God, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. Let us use this and every present moment to be holy, to be prepared. “Memento Mori” is not a call to live in fear. It’s simply a reminder (memento) always to be ready, so that we need not dread death with fear, but to pass through death to our long-awaited embrace of our Lord whom our heart has faithfully loved.

Homily for the 27th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year C) (go to readings)
Habakkuk 1:2-3; 2:2-4
Psalm 95:1-2, 6-7, 8-9
2 Timothy 1:6-8, 13-14
Luke 17:5-10

You’ve heard of the 20^th century Catholic social activist Dorothy Day, a woman many considered a living saint. Many admirers came to visit her, to have a look at her, to speak to her, to touch her, if possible. Sometimes they would tell her, “You are a saint,” or she would overhear others saying of her, “She is a saint.” She would get upset, turn to them, and say, “Don’t say that. Don’t make it too easy for yourself. Don’t escape this way. I know why you are saying, ‘she is a saint.’ You say that to convince yourself that you are different from me, that I am different from you. I am like you. You could do what I do. You don’t need any more than you have; get moving!” While that might be a good introduction to our readings, I think a good summary might be a quote from the Old Testament prophet Zechariah: “Do not despise small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin. (Zec 4:10).

We’re blessed with a short gospel reading this week, and in the gospel of Luke it follows right after the parable of Lazarus and the rich man which we heard last week, and then there’s a few verses about radical forgiveness and the danger of leading others astray. And then we have the first part of our gospel reading. The disciples ask Jesus, “Increase our faith,” and he responds “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” Mustard seeds are like black ground pepper, they’re very small, but they yield a surprisingly large bush, which is actually rather invasive like a weed, it spreads very fast. So Jesus more than once has taught his disciples that their faith should be like a mustard seed. A seed of a little faith received by a heart that’s fertile ground can change a person’s whole life, and even those around them! And a little seed of a community of believers can spread and lead to the conversion of the Roman Empire!

So, the mulberry tree is a tree with an expansive underground root system. Ancient Israel actually had regulations that planting trees had to be 30 feet from a well or a building or a road so their roots wouldn’t expand out and ruin the foundations or the well, but mulberry trees couldn’t be planted within 50 feet of anything to allow for their huge root system. They were very firmly planted trees, and they could be moved only with great difficulty. But Jesus says that with faith like a mustard-seed you could say to a mulberry tree to uproot itself and be planted in the salty sea, in sand, and it would do it. So, we might say that when we live by our faith, we should expect God to yield unbelievable outcomes to our prayers and our obedience to faith. We are called to cooperate with grace, and grace will produce results that could never have been anticipated, that defy what we could imagine.

But also, the disciples ask for this gift of increase of faith after Jesus challenges them. And so, another thing we can get out of this image of the mustard seed is that we shouldn’t procrastinate being bold in living out our faith because we don’t think we’re ready. We don’t need big faith, we need little faith, in fact, we need whatever faith we have, and to act on it, and let God yield the increase. To say we need to wait until we have more faith is to say that it depends on us instead of on God. You can’t wait until you’re ready, because you’ll wait the rest of your life, because you’ll never feel ready. You have to just do the thing, to launch, and course correct along the way, like learning to ride a bike. You can’t ride if you’re not moving forward.

On my blog where I post many of my homilies, I have one of my favorite quotes from G. K. Chesterton, “Anything worth doing is worth doing badly.” The meaning is that some things are so important that we cannot put off doing them simply because we’re not the best person, or we don’t have enough time or ability, or all the proper preparations. The simple importance of the thing requires it to be done, and the simple fact of having done it is more important than whether we have done it as well as we would have liked. The problem with mustard-seed sized faith isn’t that our faith isn’t even as big as a mustard seed, it’s that we’re too big. Our faith is too much about what we have to do, or what we have to be. Just say yes to God and start out, get some momentum, and let God show you what he does with that. That will make you humble. Keep going, and he will keep you going the right way.

So then there’s the second part of our gospel reading, about the slave that worked all day, then has to make dinner, before he or she can have dinner themselves. And we might get a little grumpy toward the master there, but remember the master’s an image of God, so get yourself back down to a mustard seed, and try to see what he’s trying to teach you. What he’s saying is that you can never do so much for God that God owes you anything. You can’t do so much good that you have one up on God, or you can manipulate God into your debt. We are unworthy servants. So, the good that we get from God is out of his goodness and his love toward us, not because he owes us. And our work should not be motivated out of trying to get anything out of God.

How many times does our prayer just sound like making wishes we want God to fulfill, like he’s a genie, instead of a dialogue of love with God? Often, we look at prayer as trying to convince God to give us the good things we want. The thing is, God already wants to give us good things, but he’s trying to get us to want to receive the good things he wants to give us. Often the problem is that what we think we really want is far too small compared to what God wants to give us. So God has to wait while he guides and prepares us to receive his superabundant gifts. And it seems in that time that he’s just not answering our prayers, it might seem like he’s not even listening.

Part of the above paragraph is inspired by (ok, taken from) my absolute favorite of the Lighthouse Media CDs and MP3s, given by Msgr. Thomas Richter of the Diocese of Bismarck, entitled, “Trust in the Lord.” I’ve listened to it countless times, and I cannot recommend it enough. I’d link it here for free, but the only online free copy has poor quality. So get the MP3, and tell me what you think!

That’s where the Old Testament prophet Habakuk is in our first reading. It’s a very small book, only three chapters, and Habakuk is complaining that God is allowing his people to see such destruction and suffering. “How long, O LORD? I cry for help, but you do not listen! I cry out to you, ‘Violence!’ but you do not intervene.” This is a terrible experience, and we’ve all been there, and depending on what we’re asking, it seems like forever. And many people lose their faith in suffering and grief, and it seems like prayers are useless and God is not even there listening.

But God responds to Habakuk, “Then the LORD answered me and said: ‘Write down the vision clearly upon the tablets, so that one can read it readily. For the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint; if it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late. The rash one has no integrity; but the just one, because of his faith, shall live.” The vision is of course the rescue of Israel from their oppression and suffering. And Habakuk is to write it down clearly because it is not only for him, but for all to see that God has been preparing this vision and will fulfill it, and all will see how God has made and fulfilled his promise of redemption for his people. And of course, the ultimate fulfillment of this promise is in Christ, the true and perfect redemption of God’s people from the oppression of sin, their call to conversion, and the lasting peace through the open gates of heaven.

And this ties back to our gospel reading, teaching the kind of faith we are to have. It cannot be a demanding faith, or a weak faith, but a powerful faith. Paul tells Timothy in our second reading, “For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather of power and love and self-control. So do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord…” and then he says, “but bear your share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God.” So, God is working and preparing his gifts, even when we cannot sense it. So yes, we do have to suffer, as Christ our Lord suffered, with great faith in God. And God gives us the grace and strength to persevere in waiting in confident faith, in sure and certain hope. God said to Habakuk, “if it delays, wait for it… The rash one has no integrity; but the just one, because of his faith, shall live.”

So, the one who is impatient loses their faith, but the one who perseveres, who relies on God to supply his grace and an increase of faith, shall live and see the goodness of God. There’s a very loose but beautiful interpretation of this that says, “There will come a time when your tears will fall not because of your troubles, but because God has answered your prayers.”

And so, we can end on the high note of our responsorial psalm, Psalm 95, which, if you pray the liturgy of the hours, you pray at the beginning of every day. “If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts. Come, let us sing joyfully to the LORD; let us acclaim the Rock of our salvation. Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving; let us joyfully sing psalms to him. Come, let us bow down in worship; let us kneel before the LORD who made us. For he is our God, and we are the people he shepherds, the flock he guides.” How beautiful is the life God invites us to, even redeeming our suffering, our tears, our patient waiting on him, and our privilege to eagerly to serve him in love and joy.

Twenty-fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year C) (go to readings)
Amos 8:4-7
Psalm 113:1-2, 4-6, 7-8
1 Timothy 2:1-8
Luke 16:1-13

A recent article about an interview with Pope Leo XIV summarizes his message, “My priority is the Gospel, not solving the world’s problems.” In the interview, Pope Leo says, “I don’t see my primary role as trying to be the solver of the world’s problems. I don’t see my role as that at all, really, although I think that the Church has a voice, a message that needs to continue to be preached, to be spoken and spoken loudly.”

In today’s social and political climate, it’s too easy to get pulled away from what should be our main mission. In the words of Stephen Covey, “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.” And the main thing for the Church is to carry forward the message of the gospel of Jesus Christ, in how we think, how we see the world, how we speak, and how we live.

In a recent parish meeting we were talking about the call to evangelization, and how Catholics seem to be notoriously shy about stepping up as messengers of the gospel. And the comment was made that the last few generations of Catholics feel very underequipped to talk about our faith. And there is so much that the Catholic Church has taught and done across two thousand years, it’s difficult for anyone to feel comfortable with their understanding of all this and to have what feels like an awkward conversation about the faith.

Fair enough. But is that what evangelization is? Teaching theology and Church history? How many people have seen the Lord of the Rings movies? Did you like them? Were they amazing? Inspiring? Did you tell anyone that? Did you suggest that they watch them? Maybe even suggest that they read the books? That’s the basic idea of evangelization. We’re not sharing the good news about the Church teachings or history. That’s important, but not the main thing. The main thing is how much we love Jesus, how inspired we are by him, by our relationship with him, by his words in the scriptures and in our hearts, how our lives have more joy, hope, beauty, and love, because our faith in Jesus enriches our life. It can even be our story of how we once were so lost, and the effect of our encounter and putting our faith in him to work in our lives, and how that has been a risk that has paid unbelievable dividends. Saint Paul made his conversion story the basis of all his ministry (“I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and an arrogant man, but I have been mercifully treated because I acted out of ignorance in my unbelief. Indeed, the grace of our Lord has been abundant, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.” he says in 1 Tim 1:13). Or the beautiful line of Mary Magdalene which she says to Nicodemus in the Chosen, “I was one way, and now I am completely different. And the thing that happened in between was Him.” And then we ask if they might like to see if coming to Church and hopefully having an encounter with Christ might help them, and we tell them we’ll meet them at Church.

I think Catholics sometimes use our poor catechesis (which indeed is a tragic reality) about our faith as a delay tactic. After I take some bible courses or join this prayer group, or this catechesis class, and maybe after that, I’ll feel comfortable sharing the gospel. First, please do learn more about our faith (to learn it more is to love it more). Do keep growing your relationship with Jesus (such as spending time in the Adoration Chapel) and sharing with others the peace and joy that comes from that quality time with the Lord. Your own words flowing from your heart shining with the love of Christ are your best tools of evangelization! But second, that will not make you comfortable sharing the gospel. The only thing that will make it comfortable is to keep doing it, like other things that feel awkward at first, but you get better at it.

But it’s easy to get caught up in the world. To have a strong opinion, the right opinion, and get fixated on correcting the other side for their errors of judgment, facts (or ignorance of facts), and beliefs. It’s easy to get caught up in defending one side or the other, or a particular figure, perhaps one villanized or silenced by the machinations of political opponents. And of course we know of the rash of shocking tragedies that have rocked our society, especially the police officers shot near Spring Grove. We thank them for their service, pray for the three who died, and the two recovering in the hospital, and their families and fellow officers and other first responders, and for an end of violence and the taking of innocent human life. This is an important thing, but not the main thing.

Our Old Testament reading from the prophet Amos harshly criticizes those caught up in the values of the world, particularly the greed and selfishness that gives God the minimum while being impatient to get back to “real life” and making money, even to the extent of being dishonest in business. “When will the new moon be over,” you ask, “that we may sell our grain, and the sabbath, that we may display the wheat?” How much longer is Mass going to last? Why do I have to go to Mass on Holy Days of Obligation? These get in the way of work and my schedule, “my time.”  Maybe I can sneak out before it’s over, especially if it means I don’t have to deal with other people in the parking lot. Why does the Church say we have to do this or that, or it says we can’t do this or that? Everyone else seems more free to do what they want.

God has given us everything, he gave the maximum sacrifice, he gives the maximum revelation, the maximum grace, he even made the best possible most beautiful world, which he then entrusted to our stewardship in our free will. God is perfect in all things, including his generosity. And our response should not only be what is required of us, but it should be with joy and thanksgiving, and to return the maximum to him in his glory and goodness. If we made our entire life, our maximum offering, to him, with the same family, job, vocation, and gifts that he has given us, how would our life look different? Not only staying for all of the Mass, but having read and prayed on the readings as our preparation, arriving early to focus our hearts, being as engaged as possible during the liturgy and our spoken and sung participation, receiving the Eucharist with maximum reverence, and staying a few minutes after Mass to give thanks and ask for his blessings throughout the upcoming week. Giving intentionally and generously a portion of our material resources to the support of the Church and to various charitable opportunities. Praying with the scriptures daily, driving with patience and safety, working our best at our jobs (or at school) with maximum virtue, kindness, preparation, and wisdom, living out the various teachings of the Church in their intent to sanctify and open every moment of our lives to glorify God and receive the grace of God available to us, that we might “pray without ceasing” by making our every moment, every aspect of our humanity and our time, talent, and treasure, an offering to him. Would your life be more or less holy? More or less successful? More or less happy? God’s way is always the best way. But that’s just the fruit of keeping the main thing the main thing—making our life about loving and serving God, including serving him in our neighbors. And if our neighbors don’t know him, inviting them into that relationship and inviting them to church.

Our gospel reading has long been considered one of Jesus’ most difficult parables to understand. Why does he tell of the rich master (usually an image of God in the parables of Jesus), praising a dishonest thief? Without getting into the weeds on the parable, I want to just take a few lines out of it in the time we have here.

“For the children of this world are more prudent in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.” The people committed to worldly life are better at being worldly than the people of faith are at being commited to living like people of faith. The life of faith is meant to be transformative. And a lot of times, people of faith are more like the worldly than we are at living like we are set apart from it. I recently heard a quote that said, “Jesus called us to be salt and light. What do salt and light have in common? They change the environments they come in contact with. They don’t conform, they don’t affirm, they transform what they come in contact with. Are you transforming the environment you are coming in contact with? …We must challenge people to be greater, to reach higher, to be biblical, to be Christlike, as we continue to be salt and light.” That was quoting Charlie Kirk. He may have talked about politics and social issues, but he always kept the main thing the main thing: bringing people to Christ. And in the wake of his death, young adults are checking out church, some for the first time, in a way they haven’t in generations (especially at that stage of life when most Christians drift away from church).

Then one of the difficult phrases of this parable, maybe made even harder with the translation, “I tell you, make friends for yourselves with dishonest wealth, so that when it fails, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.” Jesus is using the phrase dishonest wealth to mean the things of this world, passing material things, earthly money. And by making friends with it he means use it to wisely invest it in spiritually beneficial ways, in holy ways, knowing how unimportant it really is in terms of eternity, so that when you leave this world and you can’t take it with you, that you have made yourself into a spiritually rich person, having been a good and holy steward of what was entrusted to your care.

“If you are not trustworthy with what belongs to another, who will give you what is yours?” If you are a good and virtuous steward of God’s gifts entrusted to your care, investing them to become rich in what matters to God, you will receive the reward of your responsible care of those gifts: the greatest gift, your eternal life, the perfect fulfillment of your humanity in God, what you were created for. Because you kept the main thing the main thing. You kept your focus on God, on your eternal soul, and the eternal souls of those around you, which you have a responsibility for, to the extent that you have a potential impact on them. Read C. S. Lewis’ essay, “The Weight of Glory,” it’s a beautiful reflection on that topic, of the weight of obligation we have of being a holy influence on others for the sake of their eternal heavenly glory.

And so, it’s easy to think that what is most important is what the world is telling us to be emotionally invested in, or even the worldy effects of the gospel and the Church teachings that flow from it. Yes, there are political, social, and moral dimensions of Church teaching—care for the poor, the environment, for peace, for morality, for human rights, which have their source in God’s generous Creation and our God-given image and dignity.  And as Christians we do need to be involved in the public dialogue, and in voting wisely for what the gospel requires of us. But these are indirect ways of serving the gospel. Secondary things. Not the main thing. The main thing is not solving the problems of the world. The main thing is the gospel. The Church has a prophetic role in the world, the voice of conscience, reminding us of good and evil, life and death, and we should understand, share, and live the prophetic truth of the gospel in our lives. Is it Jesus that comes out of our mouth? That comes out in our actions? Is it Jesus alone that sits on the throne of our heart? He has given us everything. Everything we do is by his generosity poured upon us. Do we respond by serving him as generously in return? Do we praise him, glorify him, serve him, share him, speak to others of him, and keep him as the center of our life?

Because that’s the main thing.

Feast of the Exulatation of the Holy Cross (Sept 14) (go to readings)
Numbers 21:4b-9
Psalm 78:1bc-2, 34-35, 36-37, 38
Philippians 2:6-11
John 3:13-17

Last week in the gospel reading we heard Jesus tell his disciples, “Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.” Today we celebrate the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. So let’s look at the mystery of the cross.

Our first reading is from one of the first books in the bible, the book of Numbers. It presents the people of Israel on their exodus from Egypt to the promised land, and this book picks up after they enter into the covenant and set out from Mount Sinai.

All along the journey, the Israelites have been murmuring against Moses and against God. Just a note, my friends, the people murmuring among themselves is never a good thing in the bible. Always a temptation; never a good thing. In response to their complaining that they would rather go back to Egypt to full bellies and slavery, than embraces the invitation to the challenges to purify their hearts from slavery and become truly free as the people of God, God had given them the encouragement of the miracle of the manna, the miraculous bread of heaven that covered the land each morning, except for the Sabbath, and which would finish with their first Passover in the Promised Land. And each evening God sent quail into the camp and people ate them. And to slake their thirst, God provided water from the rock in the wilderness. And that kept them content, for a moment. Then we pick up with our reading today: “With their patience worn out by the journey, the people complained against God and Moses, ‘Why have you brought us up from Egypt to die in this desert, where there is no food or water? We are disgusted with this wretched food!’” Their response to the miraculous bread of heaven is “we are disgusted with this wretched food!?” Now, to borrow from the Hebrew language, that’s some chutzpah. Or to say it in English, “the audacity!”

God, in punishment, overruns their camp with seraph serpents. Seraph is from the Hebrew word for “burning.” The highest choir of angels are the “seraphim,” the “burning ones,” the ones closest and who most intimately participate in the burning furnace of divine love. So presumably the bite of these seraph serpents caused inflammation, a burning reaction, and many of the people died. And this divine punishment on Israel had its intended effect. “Then the people came to Moses and said, ‘We have sinned in complaining against the LORD and you. Pray the LORD to take the serpents from us.’” Holy punishment is always out of love, and with the hope of conversion, reconciliation, and salvation. The same with the regulations taught by the Church. It’s not intended to exclude but given out of love for the integrity of the person and the faith, and with the hope of conversion, reconciliation, and salvation. How people respond to it is up to their free will, and their choice of humility or pride.

So now we get to why this reading was chosen for today’s feast: “So Moses prayed for the people, and the LORD said to Moses, ‘Make a seraph and mount it on a pole, and if any who have been bitten look at it, they will live.’ Moses accordingly made a bronze serpent and mounted it on a pole, and whenever anyone who had been bitten by a serpent looked at the bronze serpent, he lived.” Now, while the psalm and second reading are important for today’s feast, I want to skip to the gospel reading, with these words fresh in our minds.

“Jesus said to Nicodemus… ‘And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.’” Why does Jesus make a reference to the serpent on the pole? I’ve heard people say that the serpent is one of the Old Testament images of Jesus. I’m sorry, I don’t think so. The biblical image of a serpent is usually the opposite of Jesus. So, what is it then? It’s an image of the cost of our rebellion against God. Think about what Jesus looked like on the cross. Scourged at the pillar, crowned with thorns, carried and was nailed to the cross (bloody, beaten, and naked). Now, some people rightly say that thousands of people were crucified by the Roman Empire; Jesus wasn’t unique in being crucified. True. But Jesus was unique in carrying the enitre weight of humanity’s rebellion against God, our sin and anger and resentment and pride and infidelity and disobedience against God, bearing all that in his humanity, held together by his divinity. His appearance on the cross was horrific to behold. Like the Israelites being instructed to look at the bronze serpent, the consequence of their rebellion against God, we can look at a crucifix and see the consequence of our rebellion against God. And we can see the love of God in that he accepted the consequence of our sin to save us. The word “salvation” and the word “healing” come from the same root. Something that is “salutary” is both for our salvation and for our healing. So, it isn’t just that Jesus was crucified to save us, like he wrote a check to cover our debt to let us off the hook. He was crucified also to heal us, to root out from within us the poisonous spirit of sin and death, that he might put in us his Holy Spirit of light and eternal life.

We have the obligation to live out, in this life and in this world, this holy spirit of light and eternal life. I often say at funerals that we often say that our dearly departed has recently entered eternal life. In a way, yes, but that’s not really accurate. They entered eternal life at their baptism (when they die to the spirit of fallen humanity, and take on the spirit of Christ). And hopefully that person had discerned and lived out this new spiritual life, by how they exercise their free will, live out their vocation to holiness, and fulfill their particular mission in the Body of Christ for God’s plan of salvation for the world. That’s what all of us are called to, obligated to. It’s what every human being is created for, and where we find our deepest joy, peace, and fulfillment. And so it is our obligation of love to share that message and call people to this truth, that they, also, would know the deep joy, peace, and fulfillment of living out their vocation.

This week, as we were just recovering from all the media coverage and reactions to the shooting at Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis two weeks earlier, then on the eve of remembering how September 11, 2001 rocked our American society with shocking tragedy, on Wednesday, September 10 our American society was again rocked with shocking tragedy at the killing of Charlie Kirk in the middle of a conversation with an opponent about mass shooters and gun violence.

Mass media and social media have been flooded with messages of his noble and friendly character, his strong Christian faith, and how they informed his well-defended political and social values, but most especially, how he saw it as his mission to talk, to engage, to listen, to ask questions, to be truly open to the joy of meeting other people, even (or maybe especially) if they disagreed with him, and doing what he could, as he saw it, to lead them more deeply into truth. Of course many people, especially on the college campuses where he did much of his public debates, disagreed with his Christian or conservative views, and many saw him as a dangerous voice promoting what they saw as hate. But to his core, even publicly acknowledging that he had received death threats against himself and his family, Charlie led his life courageously, engaged opponents with genuine openness, and fully giving God the credit for any of his success, professionally or personally, including the virtues of his character, and the beautiful gift of his family. He saw and accepted the inherent danger and vulnerability of his public events as the cross he was called to carry for his personal vocation to spread the gospel and speak the truth.

And this then is the final part of our reflection. The area in our life where we know we are most weak, where we are most tempted, where we most sin, where know we need God’s grace to help us, requires the cross of our humility, to acknowledge we need God, and to reach up, like a little child, to ask God for his help. And because we know God will give us his help, and that this area of weakness is where we will experience his love and grace poured into our life, we can exalt in the cross of our weakness, because asking God into our life is what will save us, and that area of weakness is where we are most of aware of our need for that. St. Paul was never ashamed to speak about his weakness, “I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.”, “I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and an arrogant man, but I have been mercifully treated…Indeed, the grace of our Lord has been abundant,” and “It is not I who live, but Christ who lives within me.” And in our gratitude we lift up our praise to Jesus, we lift up Christ, who came into our humanity with his divinity. That’s the meaning of our incarnation. We lift up Christ as our hope in God. Jesus is our perfect offering of prayer and worship of the Father. Jesus said, “When I am lifted up, I shall draw all men to myself.” That means a number of things. It means when he is lifted up on the cross for our repentance, and to pay the cost of the salvation of all humanity. It means when he is lifted up in the resurrection in victory over death. It means when he is lifted up in the ascension and crowned with glory. It means when he is lifted up in our hearts and acknowledged, worshiped, and obeyed as our Lord and our God. The Greek for that “lifted up”, also means exalted, hupsoó. It is similar to what we find in our second reading from the letter to the Philippians, “God highly exalted him, hyper-hupsoó, for his obedient, faithful, incomprehensible sacrifice in love in embracing his part in the plan of salvation, his death and resurrection to save us.

So, in our feast we celebrate today we lift up, we exalt, the cross, because by his holy Cross he has redeemed the world. We lift up the cross we carry of our own weakness, because in entrusting our weakness to Christ as an offering to be transformed by his grace, we are made strong in Him.”For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son… [not] to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.”

Twenty-Third Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year C (go to readings)
Wisdom 9:13-18b
Psalm 90:3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14 and 17
Philemon 9-10, 12-17
Luke 14:25-33

French artists Henri Matisse and Auguste Renoir were close friends and frequent companions, even though Renoir was twenty-eight years older than Matisse. During the last several years of his life, Renoir was virtually crippled by arthritis; nevertheless, he painted every day, and when his fingers were no longer supple enough to hold the brush correctly, he had his wife, Alice, attach the paintbrush to his hand in order that he might continue his work. Matisse visited him daily. One day, as he watched his older friend wincing in excruciating pain with each colorful stroke, he asked, “Auguste, why do you continue to paint when you are in such agony?” Renoir’s response was immediate, “The beauty remains; the pain passes.” Passion for his art empowered Renoir to paint until the day he died. Those who continue to admire the enduring beauty of his smiling portraits, his landscapes, his still-life studies, will find no trace therein of the pain required to create them. Most will agree that the temporary cost was worth the enduring result.

Our readings today give us the theme of putting what is eternal over what is temporal, what is true, good, and beautiful, what endures forever, over what will pass away, like dust in the wind. But the problem is that this is very difficult for us. The power of what is visual, what is seen, what is pleasing to the physical senses, what is urgent (regardless of whether it is important) and short term, immediately in front of us, claims a great, even overwhelming, demand on our attention.

But our readings are trying to pull us out of this materialistic, temporal mindset and fix our attention on what is higher, of higher reality, higher importance, higher dignity, and requires a higher level of priorities to understand, believe, and practice.

In our gospel reading, Jesus is giving us the true understanding of what it costs to be his disciple. People want to call themselves Christian, and claim the reward of being Christian, without wanting to understand the cost, consider the cost, and pay the cost. They want Christianity on their own terms, and that’s not at all how Christianity works. As someone said, “All are welcome, but on Christ’s terms, not on their own.” And it’s not that Christ’s terms have become more strict, more out of touch with society, but rather that society has become more out of touch with Christ’s terms, the cost of what takes to make our lives about what is above, resplendent with divine wisdom, rather than the dust on the wind that is what the world wants us to focus on.

In the first part of our gospel reading, Jesus teaches that he has a greater calling on his disciples than even the relationships of family. In ancient Israel, family was everything, who your family is was who you are, your role in society, how you were related to Israel, the ancient hereditary Father of the Israelites. This is why genealogies were so important in the bible and in Israel. And the only thing more important than one’s family was God himself. So for Jesus to teach that “He who loves father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me; he who loves son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of me” is to say that Jesus is the one thing more important than family; Jesus is revealing his divine identity, by taking this divine prerogative of being the one thing more important than family. In fact, in other places of the gospels (“ For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother” Mt 12:50), Jesus teaches that one’s spiritual family of the Church is more important than one’s blood family of the flesh; and its no wonder why he attracted attention, both positive and negative.

Jesus then teaches “Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.” We’ve heard this many times. In the time of the early Church, when Christians were persecuted and executed for their faith, this could have been taken literally. To be a disciple, you had to accept that you have to hold to this faith all the way. At many times during the Church’s history, we see Christians not only executed, but their property confiscated, their professional credentials and opportunities disappear, their public reputation and privileges destroyed. And we see this script being replayed today, not only in other countries where Christians are literally executed, but even in our own society. Christian bakers and venue owners are targeted for refusing to cooperate in supporting same-sex marriage, medical staff are persecuted for refusing to participate in (or even criticize) abortion or transgender affirmation, and the Little Sisters of the Poor are being sued by the Pennsylvania attorney general for the seventh time (after they’ve been exonerated in 6 previous lawsuits) for refusing to include contraception in their employee healthcare packages. To be Christian is to lay all of what we are and all that we have on the altar of God, to be sacrificed if called to do so for the sake of faithfulness to the kingdom of heaven.

But since many of us will hopefully not be called to such explicit examples of carrying the cross of the faith, we can also understand this requirement as crucifying those things in our life—our evil habits, our unhealthy attachments, our disordered attractions—that are incompatible with the call to holiness and the teaching of the Church. That doesn’t mean that these things aren’t good. Families are good. Our reputation, our businesses we have built up, our money and resources and security, these are all good—even some of our attachments and attractions, although they might be wounded and distorted, and need to be healed to be healthy and holy. But nothing else is the ultimate good, which is God. We have to put first things first, and other things afterward. If we put secondary things in the place that only God should be, we lose everything.

Jesus then teaches his disciples that this is a high calling, the very highest demand, and before deciding to be a Christian, it is foolish to start if you’re not going resolve to take it all the way to the finish, come what may (as a man considering building a tower, or a general considering engaging in battle). If you quit, or compromise, what it means to be Christian, what the Christian faith teaches and requires, you lose the only thing that matters, and you also become a stumbling block for others. As Yoda said to Luke Skywalker, “Do, or do not; there is no try.” If we tell ourselves we are merely trying, it’s a preparation to have an excuse for failing, instead of fully committing everything to what is required.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Lutheran minister who died resisting against the Nazi’s, talked about cheap grace: “Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ… Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man will go and sell all that he has. It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods. It is the kingly rule of Christ, for whose sake a man will pluck out the eye which causes him to stumble… It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner.” So, what we might call the “bad news” is that there is a high cost to identifying oneself as a Christian, and only those who are all-in deserve the name. But the good news is that we receive the grace to do exactly that, if we surrender ourselves completely to it, to allow God to work on us, perfect us, and unite us to the incredible heavenly beauty and joy of his own divine life.

Our first reading expounds on the beauty of the heights of divine wisdom and truth we are called to center our life on, and the utter difficulty, or rather impossibility, of this without God. “For the deliberations of mortals are timid, and unsure are our plans. For the corruptible body burdens the soul and the earthen shelter weighs down the mind that has many concerns. And scarcely do we guess the things on earth, and what is within our grasp we find with difficulty; but when things are in heaven, who can search them out? Or who ever knew your counsel, except you had given wisdom and sent your holy spirit from on high?”

Again, not that our physical nature is evil, but it distracts us from what is most important. Our bodies are good. God gave us our bodies. And Jesus even united himself to our bodily nature to restore the goodness of our human nature, which is body and soul as a unity of a human person. Fr. Robert Spitzer wrote a beautiful book called, “Finding True Happiness,” which, among other things, outlines four levels of happiness we pursue and enjoy, from the lowest and most immediate gratification that flees as soon as the act is completed, to the highest and most abstract levels of happiness, which give us an enduring, fulfilling happiness. But to attain the higher, more spiritual levels, we often have to say “no” to the lower, more physical levels.

Our psalm today has the beautiful line, “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain wisdom of heart.” When we contemplate the reality that we have a limited amount of time to become what we will be forever, either holy or hell-bound, it should inspire us to always be moving upward. Blessed Carlo Acutis, a young person who is being canonized as a saint this weekend by Pope Leo XIV, said, “I die serene because I have not wasted even a minute of my life in things God does not like.” He had a great devotion to young saints, and now he is one of them.

And lastly, our second reading from one of the shortest books in the bible, Saint Paul’s letter to Philemon. It is one of the letters written by Paul while in prison. And in prison, Paul meets and converts a man named Onesimus, who was a slave who fled from his master Philemon, who Paul knows, as he was a prominent Christian in the community of the Colossians. And so Paul is writing to Philemon not only to tell him, “Hey, I just found your escaped slave,” but also, “Hey, I’m sending your escaped slave back to you as a member of the church, a brother in Christ, who is dear to my heart, so treat him as you would treat me.” Obviously, this is going to make for an awkward reunion. Ordinarily, Onesimus would be flogged and branded. But Paul is reminding Philemon that our spiritual relationships, such as brothers and sisters in the family of Christ, as children of God our Father, take a higher place than our relationships in the flesh. Also, note that Paul says, “I appeal to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I have become…” for those who condemn Catholics for calling priests their spiritual “father.”

And so again, to end with this example from Saint Paul, we must put the high demand, even sacrificial demand, of the Christian faith, first in our lives, the solid rock foundation of our lives. We must be Christian first, and everything else we are, we do, and we have in our lives is to serve, witness, and reinforce our Chrisitan identity, over all the things of this fallen world, and our temporary existence as part of it. We are called to be in the world, but not of the world, witnessing to the world by the faith, hope, and love of our Christian life.

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C (go to readings)

We know from rabbinic sources from around the time of Jesus that one of the big questions they were wrestling with was, “who will be saved?” You hear it a number of times in the New Testament, including in our Gospel reading today. Rabbis leaning toward the conservative side were saying that not all of Israel would be saved. The generation of Noah, the people of Sodom, the rebellious generation that left Egypt in the Exodus, the ten lost tribes of the Northern Kingdom. They were excluded. Other rabbis, leaning toward a more liberal interpretation, were saying that God would restore the lost tribes, and perhaps show mercy to all who had sinned, and perhaps all of Israel might be saved. But on both sides, the scope of who would be saved was still limited to Israel, God’s chosen people. Even the more liberal suggestion was that being an Israelite, a Jew, was a guarantee of salvation. And so, with this question circulating around Israel, someone finally asks the Messiah, the one who perhaps would know for sure, this burning question. And Jesus, being typical Jesus, doesn’t answer the question. In fact, he answers a whole different question, which wasn’t asked. In response to this one person’s question, he said to the crowd, “Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.” So a few things in that important sentence: First, the narrow gate seems to favor the narrow interpretation of the question that was asked. Second, we might picture a crowd trying to get through a pass that narrows down to one person at a time. Like an amusement park gate or sports venue gate. The entrance seems wide, but as you get close, you see it’s rather narrow and guarded. And if there were a big rush trying to pass through that narrow gate, the strong would seem to have an advantage. But for this gate, it’s not the physically strong, but the spiritually strong. Those who have disciplined themselves and their appetites to be virtuous, because they have battled against their vices in prayer and surrender to God to grow in holiness. These are the ones who will be strong enough to pass through this gate. And third and most important about this, is that Jesus doesn’t answer the question of whether there will be few or many, but rather the instruction to make sure that no matter how many there are, you make sure that you are among them. Your call is not to be holier than the next person, but to be as holy as you can possibly be.

“You stand outside knocking and saying, ‘Lord, open the door for us.’ He will say to you in reply, ‘I do not know where you are from. And you will say, ‘We ate and drank in your company, and you taught in our streets.’ Then he will say to you, ‘I do not know where you are from. Depart from me, all you evildoers!‘”

There’s a difference between “knowing about Jesus” and “knowing Jesus.” When Pope Leo XIV was elected, a lot of people got to know a lot about him. But not like his family knows him. It’s not enough to know about Jesus, to hear the bible stories, to say daily prayers, go to Mass, even receive communion, and be done with it until next time. We have to intentionally enter into spiritual communion with Jesus, give him permission to change our hearts, our lives, and then prayerfully respond to his invitation to these changes he’s leading us through, becoming closer to him, conforming our heart to his sacred heart, hearing his voice and obeying in love.

God makes each of us with great care. He is our heavenly father. But we can make ourselves into something else, we can distort ourselves, distort our humanity, our goodness, by sin, by rejection of God’s discipline, and then fearfully hear God say, “I do not know you. I do not know where you are from” as the gates of heaven are locked against us, and we are outside wailing in eternal sorrow, or even eternal anger, railing against God for having the audacity to exclude us.

It can apply to us in the church as much as it applied to the Jews hearing Jesus say, “when you see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God and you yourselves cast out. And people will come from the east and the west and from the north and the south and will recline at table in the kingdom of God.” Jesus doubles down on that personal message: not just saying directly, “Strive to enter through the narrow gate,” but “you yourselves cast out.” The Greek word for strive there is “agonizomai,” where we get the word “agony” and “agonize,” which also appears in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, when he is talking about athletes exercising discipline, “agonizomai”, struggling, striving, with all their might, their mind, their heart, for their little reward, and how much more should we strive for salvation, which we could lose by vice, sin, and distraction?

We’re going to end with the last part of that quote: “And people will come from the east and the west and from the north and the south and will recline at table in the kingdom of God.” In this, Jesus is confirming Old Testament passages like our first reading in which Israel will be restored not for its own sake, but for the sake of the whole world. The Jews were angry with Jesus for being a Messiah that claimed to be not just Israel’s own private savior from the oppression of the Romans, but the universal savior of humanity from the oppression of sin. I love irony, but sometimes irony can be dark. Just as Eve in the Garden of Eden fell to the serpent’s lie that eating the fruit would make her like God, when she was already more like God than she would be after eating the fruit, the Jews were unhappy with Jesus, as we just said, but it was in being the Messiah, the Savior of the World, by which he would restore Israel to its special privileged place of being God’s holy city. And because of their angry rejection of Jesus, they crucified him just outside of Jerusalem, and fulfilled what Jesus had promised, the Messianic Age, but now in a way in which the Jews’ relationship to this fulfillment is difficult, and the city of the glory of the New Covenant people, the Church, is no longer Jerusalem, which was destroyed, as Jesus said would happen if they killed him. “If you destroy this temple, I will rebuild it in three days.”

But we’re going to sum all this up to two points Jesus gives us. First, we should focus more on our personal commitment to striving for our personal holiness without the distraction of asking if it will be many or few, or comparing ourselves to other people. There are places in the scriptures where it seems like a few, such as our gospel reading, and there are places where it seems like many, such as the numberless multitude in the book of Revelation.

Our faith teaches us that God has given humanity through the Catholic Church all the necessary means of salvation, which is to say the Sacred Scriptures, sacred Tradition, sacred Liturgy, and sacred sacraments, particularly the grace which protects the integrity of the Church and its Faith. The downside for us of course is not only are we more under attack by the enemy who wants to destroy the Church and its members, but that we are held to a higher standard. “To whom much is given, of them much is expected.” As Israel should have been the beacon of holiness to the ancient world, guided by the gift of the divine law, the Church ought to be even more so to the modern world, guided by the grace and truth of the New Covenant.

The Catholic Church teaches that although God instructs us about what is necessary for salvation, and we must take that with absolute seriousness, God himself is not limited to what he has given us. He is God, and he can freely choose to save whom he wills, how he wills, but he willed to reveal to us the way he intended to save us, and so we would be wise to obey, and foolish to be presumptuous.

Those who were raised outside the faith or with an immature faith will be judged less harshly, as we heard a few weekends ago. To the extent that they do good and avoid evil as they perceive it in their fallen and limited human nature, the good that they do outside the state of grace will not be salvific, but will help conform them and open them up more to goodness, and help them to more easily hear the call of God in them toward Jesus and his Church. However, even though whatever evil they choose is in greater ignorance, while their sinfulness is not as grave, they still must suffer the consequences of the evil of their actions. While those outside the Church have a hope of salvation by the mystery of God’s mercy beyond what he has instructed for the Church, it is still a great act of love to evangelize lost souls, because not only does it help them avoid sin and the consequences of evil choices, but more importantly it invites them to the joy of the life of grace, the beauty of the Church temporally and spiritually, the spiritual blessings of the sacraments, and the fuller blossoming of their particular gifts. While many consider the Catholic Church to be their enemy, the Church does not consider them to be her enemy. They are her lost children, her mission field, and those yet to be reborn to her in the womb of baptism and brought into full communion in her spousal relationship with the Lord.

Jesus was and is the Messiah, sent to restore Israel, including the expectation of reuniting the ten lost tribes who had been dispersed among the nations of the world. And so, if the Messianic covenant is going to include the descendants in all the world, then all the world, those who are outside the covenant, must be invited. And so, after Pentecost until the end of the age, in the gift of the Holy Spirit, Jesus sends out his Apostles to north, south, east, and west, inviting all to enter into the New Covenant: responding to grace by living the life of love, faith, and obedience, striving for holiness as God has revealed it to us, including sharing the fullness of truth we have received. Although God loves all and calls all to accept the invitation, not all will humbly submit themselves to his discipline and formation, to be able to answer the call to the banquet. His love is unconditional, and our response is up to us. We can be those warned about being shut out. Or we can be the beneficiaries of our readings today: the ones invited from all the nations, north, south, east, and west. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.