Just an Average Joe?

He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them.

Young Jesus, going home with Mary and Joseph.

That’s the last definite information the bible gives us about St Joseph.

And it doesn’t give us a lot of detail before that.

We’re told he was a descendant of King David.

A carpenter.

A just and righteous man.

A man chosen to serve as the earthly father of Jesus, a foster father.

A man who listened to God.

Who heard the messages to accept Mary as his wife and her child as his son.

To flee to Egypt to protect his young charge, and to return again.

A dedicated father who presented his infant son at the temple,

And heard the prophesies of Simeon and Anna.

A concerned father who searched in great anxiety for his missing pre-teen son.

That’s really all the Gospels tell us about Joseph.

We don’t really know if he was young or old when he married Mary.

We don’t really know if he was a widower with children.

But we can deduce a little more from the Gospels.

Joseph must have died before Jesus began his public ministry.

Mary and other relatives are sometimes mentioned as being present, but never Joseph.

On the cross, Jesus gave his mother into the care of the apostle John.

He wouldn’t have done that if Joseph were alive.

Joseph isn’t the only one we lose track of after the family’s return to Nazareth.

Jesus and Mary also disappear—for eighteen years.

That’s quite a gap—over half of Jesus’ life on earth.

It’s referred to as the hidden life.

Luke’s Gospel goes on to tell us simply:

Jesus grew in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man.

Certainly, a lot happened during those eighteen years of hidden life.

But the details were non-essential to the Good News story of our salvation.

Unremarkable years, except for the very fact of their existence.

By living those unremarkable eighteen years of everyday life,

Along with most of the unremarkable time in the previous twelve years,

Jesus sanctified the everyday activities of our own largely unremarkable lives.

The work, study, play, joy, pain, meals, relationships, prayer and sleep.

Joseph was one of the two key people in Jesus’ life for many of those thirty years.

Protecting, teaching, guiding, supporting, loving, caring.

And occasionally doing something remarkable.

For all of that, and especially for answering “Yes” to God’s call,

Joseph is one of our greatest saints and models.

He’s not only the patron of our little parish here on Capitol Hill,

He’s patron of the universal Roman Catholic Church.

Today, on this Feast of St Joseph, our universal Church looks to the future.

In Rome, we’re installing our new pope, Francis.

St Joseph protected his son, and guided him to growth in wisdom and stature and favor.

May he likewise protect and guide his son’s Church.

Feast of St Joseph

Lk 2:41-51                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

Superman and The Pope

Superman fought for justice.

The slogan we heard on the old TV show was: Truth, justice, and the American way.

Certainly, we consider justice to be a good and important concept.

It’s the idea of fair and equal treatment for everyone.

Of everyone getting what they deserve.

It’s not only part of the American way.

It’s ingrained in our human nature.

We have a basic need to be treated with justice.

And we quickly recognize it and strongly resent it

When we ourselves, or someone we identify with, is not treated justly.

We may be less quick to recognize it when our treatment of someone else is not just.

Receiving justice is a fundamental need.

Dispensing justice is a virtue.

The need to be treated with justice may be even deeper than human nature.

Scientists at Emory University studied a group of Capuchins.

That’s the monkeys—not the friars.

And concluded that they too demonstrate this basic need to be treated fairly.

Our new pope, Francis, has a long history of involvement in social justice.

Partially, perhaps, from his Jesuit roots.

Jesuits are noted for their commitment and activism in social justice matters.

Even more than the Capuchins—the Franciscan friars not the monkeys.

Those Franciscans are particularly noted more for their humility and service to the poor.

Following in the footsteps of their founder, St Francis of Assisi.

And our new pope chose his name, Francis, for that reason.

Pope Francis has earned a reputation as a humble, holy man and a servant to the poor.

Not only the materially poor, but also the spiritually poor.

On his first official outing from the Vatican as Pope,

Francis visited St Mary Major basilica across town in Rome.

When he saw the people congregated there, he told the priests with him:

Mercy, mercy, mercy.

Saying that the Church must offer mercy to the people.

So, who’s looking out for us better, Superman or Francis?

What’s our greater human need, justice or mercy?

Justice may be a fundamental need.

But mercy seems to outrank anything we try to balance against it.

Our priests wear a stole, a symbol of authority.

But they cover it over with a chasuble, a symbol of mercy.

Mercy trumps authority.

Scripture tells us that God himself desires mercy more than sacrifice.

Mercy trumps sacrifice.

In today’s Gospel, the Pharisees bring Jesus a woman caught in adultery.

And ask him what they should do with her.

The Law of Moses says she should be stoned to death.

She knew the law, she sinned and broke the law.

She deserves to face the consequences.

Justice calls for her stoning.

Of course, the Pharisees and scribes had no legal reason to bring her to Jesus.

They brought her to him as a test.

Hoping to put him in a no-win dilemma.

If he said let her go, he’d be ignoring the Law of Moses.

If he said stone her, he’d be contradicting his own message of love and mercy.

He'd also be going against Roman Law.

Either way, they figured he’d at least lose credibility with some of his followers.

But Jesus escaped their trap with his simple, but very wise and instructive answer.

Let the one among you who is without sin cast the first stone.

Jesus lets mercy prevail over justice.

And it's an example he wants us to follow.

He even taught us to pray:

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

We might each imagine ourselves standing alone in front of Jesus—like that woman.

There’s no question of guilt or innocence.

We’re guilty.

Our fate is in his hands.

We deserve justice.

As we imagine that scene, we can draw great hope from the Good News of our Gospel.

We can dare to echo the words of Pope Francis—Mercy, Mercy, Mercy.

And we can hope to hear those same words the woman heard.

Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.

It would be good, from time-to-time, to re-imagine ourselves in this scene.

It could help us to follow Jesus' example of mercy.

And that's important.

Because soon, we will be standing there.

5th Sunday of Lent

Jn 8:1-11                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

No Thanks

We meet some interesting characters in the Bible.

Some are inspirational heroes.

Some are villains.

Some are role models.

Some are anti-role-models.

This guy from Bethesda in today’s Gospel falls into that last category.

Not a villain, but certainly a far-from-admirable person.

He’s been sick, lying on a mat, unable to work or live a normal life.

For thirty-eight years!

Jesus comes by one Sabbath and cures him in an instant.

The Jewish leaders warn the man against carrying his mat.

And ask who cured him on the Sabbath.

He knows the leaders don’t have anything good in mind for the healer.

But he doesn’t know who it was, so he can’t tell them.

It appears that that’s the end of the matter.

He’s not facing any punishment.

He’s not threatened and told he’d better come up with a name.

But then, later, he finds out that it was Jesus who cured him.

And he betrays Jesus.

He goes back and tells the leaders.

Where’s his gratitude?

Where’s his loyalty to the man who freed him from his infirmity?

The one who saved him.

He should have been just bursting with gratitude for the great gift he’d received.

Eagerly searching for anything he might do to try to show that gratitude.

It’s pretty easy to see the failings and weakness of this guy from Bethesda.

Pretty easy to look down on him.

… Until we catch a reflective glimpse of ourselves.

He knew that—thanks to Jesus—

he could now look forward to years of normal, healthy life.

We know that—thanks to Jesus—

we can now look forward to an eternity of joy-filled, glorified life

How eagerly are we working to show our bursting gratitude?

Tuesday,  4th Week of Lent

Jn 5:1-16                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

Setting Our Limits

We must have heard this a million times already.

Not today’s Gospel passage itself.

But its basic message.

That message is repeated three times in today’s Gospel.

First when Jesus answers Peter.

Saying that we must forgive our brother not seven times, but seventy-seven times.

Second, in Jesus' parable where the master says:

Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant, as I had pity on you?

And a third time, when Jesus confirms the warning message of the parable:

… my heavenly Father [will not forgive] you, unless you forgive your brother from your heart.

In some translations, the seventy-seven times is presented as seven times seventy times.

Or 490 times, if you take it literally.

But of course, it's not meant as a precise number.

We don't need to keep a scorecard.

It's meant to represent a great number of times, perhaps an infinite number of times.

The way we might today say, a thousand times or a million times.

There are numerous Gospel references to the requirement that we forgive others.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Love your neighbor as yourself.

The measure with which you measure will be measured out to you.

We hear these passages and similar ones dozens of times throughout the year.

But we're warned of the necessity of forgiving others far more often than that.

We hear it—actually we say it—every time we pray the Our Father.

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

And that language, in today's Gospel passage and in the Our Father,

Really makes the point.

God forgives us as we forgive others.

So we have the opportunity to set our own limit

on the number of times we'll want God to forgive us.

What limit can we dare to impose?

Seven times?

Seventy-seven times?

Four hundred ninety times?

I'd feel more comfortable with that million number.

And not the literal million—the figurative, infinite million.

God's infinite mercy gives us cause for great hope.

Tuesday,  3rd Week of Lent

Mt 18:21-35                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

Feel Free to Call Me "Reverend Doctor Deacon, Sir"

A couple years ago Cardinal McCarrick was here to celebrate our 8:00 daily Mass.

And he brought along a concelebrant, the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem.

Patriarch is a special Eastern Rite title, and it’s much the same as Archbishop.

We formally address a bishop as Your Excellency; but a Patriarch is Your Beatitude.

While we were all getting ready in the sacristy,

The Cardinal and the Patriarch stepped toward the water cooler at the same time.

Cardinal McCarrick grinned and with exaggerated formality said, After you, Your Beatitude!

Patriarch Sabbah returned the mock formality saying, No, no, after you, your Eminence!

Why do we—even in the Church—use these exalted titles?

Jesus makes it clear that the exalted will be humbled and the humble will be exalted.

He even warns against using less exalted titles like Father and Teacher.

But Jesus was aware of the benefit and need for titles in human societies.

Titles help us pay proper respect to one another, and to special offices.

They give us a shorthand description for conveying information about roles and relationships.

If I introduce someone as Rabbi Borochoff, you know a lot about him just from that title

If I call my own father, Father or Dad or Sir or Mr Bockweg--- that tells you something too.

What Jesus is warning against is taking all these titles too seriously.

We may have different roles in society.

We may be presidents, chiefs, chairpersons, directors, bosses or heads of families.

Celebrities or just plain folks.

But we’re all brothers and sisters.

All children of God.

And that’s the fundamental basis for our relationships and our respect for one another.

It’s easy to be swayed by exalted titles.

And inflated expectations based on those titles create a danger for all involved.

It’s dangerous for those looking up to the titled and planning to emulate them.

How often have we seen the highly exalted fail as role models?

As Jesus says, Do not follow their example.

Many of us today have learned that lesson; we’ve seen the failures again and again.

And it’s dangerous for those tempted to look down from their titles.

They can come to believe that they truly are more deserving than the common folk.

Or they can become isolated by the formality and distance their title engenders.

The person who headed our Supreme Court some decades ago

Was criticized for taking himself much too seriously.

A magazine article said that his closest friends call him Mr Chief Justice.

So I appreciate having witnessed the knowing grins during that little exchange in the sacristy.

And other genuine indications from archbishops and generals and judges and senators.

We all see damage from hero-worship and ego trips every day.

But we’re fortunate to live in a time and a society where we also see many positive signs.

Many of those viewing and those holding the exalted titles do grasp Jesus’ message.

It’s up to us to spread that message further—the call for humble service.

Tuesday,  2nd Week of Lent

Mt 23:1-12                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

Deserts, Meteors, Popes and Lenten Decisions

A lot has happened since we were together last Sunday.

We had a dramatic, rare meteor event in Russia—something never before witnessed by so many.

So extraordinary, it led Vladimir Putin to say, Thank God [there was no loss of life].

We had a dramatic, rare papal event in Rome—something no one has seen in 600 years.

Less dramatically, we had Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent.

Our forty days of prayer, fasting and almsgiving in preparation for Easter.

Today's Gospel tells us of Jesus' forty days of preparation, in the desert.

We don’t have much desert around here.

Many of us probably aren’t too familiar with the desert.

A couple years ago I spent a week in Palm Desert, California.

We drove through some pretty barren areas to get there.

But Palm Desert itself was more like a great Oasis.

A modern city with all the trappings.

Traffic, shopping malls, chain restaurants, hotels and gated communities.

But it was in the midst of a desert.

And, along with a lot of sprinkler-fed greenery,

It had some plant and animal life we non-desert folks don’t see every day.

I took a walk around the hotel grounds with my two-year-old grandson.

And introduced him to some of those wonders.

Lizards, roadrunners, desert flowers and cactus.

We saw one brightly colored, particularly eye-catching plant.

And we both touched its flowers.

No problem—until we touched something else; then we were both in pain.

With tiny, short, hair-like, almost invisible needles in our finger tips.

We didn’t even feel them going in.

But once lodged in our fingers, they hurt whenever we touched something.

We had to go back to our room and closely examine our hands under a bright lamp.

And get the light just right before we could even see the needles to pluck them out.

I felt guilty for letting my little grandson touch the plant.

And a bit foolish for knowing so little about the desert.

Jesus went out into a place very different from Palm Desert.

He went to a place of quiet solitude.

A place where he was totally alone, away from all the distractions of daily life.

A place where he could engage with only his own thoughts and with the Spirits.

This is the kind of setting we seek to enter during Lent.

Not physically—but figuratively, mentally and spiritually.

Enter that state of mind where we can shut out all the noise of the day.

Where we can concentrate on taking a long, careful, quiet look inward.

And really engage our own thoughts and examine our lives.

Where we can present our questions to God and hope to hear his answers.

We might examine and discuss how we're doing with those three major activities.

Prayer, fasting and almsgiving.

Almsgiving involves more than money or material goods like the crops in our first reading.

It also includes giving our time and talent.

Prayer includes thanksgiving as in that first reading, and in Putin's short statement.

And praise, as in our second reading.

And petition—seeking help and guidance—as in our psalm.

All of those types of prayer can include quiet conversation and listening.

Fasting includes giving up food.

But it also includes giving up other possessions and activities.

As we reflect on all those things we may see opportunities for action.

We might decide to give something up, or to take something on.

To do something extra.

Or to just try harder at the things we’re already doing and supposed to do.

It’s easy to feel that we’re not doing enough.

And that’s very often true.

Wondering what's enough always reminds me of Jesus’ words regarding our duty as servants.

When you have done all you have been commanded, say,

‘We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.’ (Lk 17:10)

So, can anything we do really be extra?

As we discuss that with God, we might hear–Hey, your plate is full, just keep up the good work.

If that's the answer we get, that may be fine.

But we might want to double check a few times to make sure whose voice is telling us that.

As we heard in our Gospel, the devil can be pretty crafty—he'll even resort to quoting Scripture.

As we examine our lives, and decide on next steps,

We might take some timely guidance in discernment and decision-making from Pope Benedict.

Nearly all popes have left it to the unquestionable certainty of death to end their ministry.

But Benedict relied on what he heard in his conversations with God.

In his resignation address he said:

After having repeatedly examined my conscience before God,

I have come to the certainty that my strengths, due to an advanced age,

are no longer suited to an adequate exercise of the Petrine ministry.

The decision he labored over may have been orders of magnitude more important than ours.

But the process Benedict used to reach it is the same process we should follow.

Talk to God … Pray … Repeatedly.

Work through the details. Examine our conscience.

Hear God’s direction; find that certainty.

If we examine ourselves in the right light, we may see the things that are hurting us.

Things that are holding us back. 

Hurtful things we can pluck out of our lives.

Or we may see opportunities that we've never seen before.

Benedict’s decision may have been far more important than ours in many ways.

It was certainly more newsworthy; it certainly has a greater immediate impact on more people.

But our own Lenten decision is almost certainly of greater importance to us individually.

It could be the start of a new conversion, a rekindling, a first step on a new course.

First Sunday of Lent

LK 4:1-13                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

Oh So Peaceful and Serene

Poor Jud is dead, a candle lights his head.

He’s lookin oh so peaceful and serene …

He looks like he’s asleep.

It’s a shame that he won’t keep.

But it’s summer and we’re runnin out of ice.

Dark humor from the show Oklahoma.

As they try to convince poor Jud how lovely things would be—if he would just hang himself.

In the paintings of the death of Jairus’ daughter, she always looks peaceful and serene.

But the family and the servants and the mourners all knew that she was dead.

It’s only Jesus who claims that she was merely sleeping.

And the people laugh at him for saying that.

So was Jesus lying?

Trying to downplay the miracle he was about to perform?

Actually, she was dead.

But Jesus was about to change that, and thereby make his statement true.

He was about to make her death only temporary.

So she was, at least in a figurative sense, merely sleeping.

Jairus’ daughter was one of three people we know of who Jesus raised from the dead.

The son of the widow of Nain was another—raised from his coffin in his funeral procession.

And of course, Lazarus—raised after three days in the tomb.

All three raisings dramatically demonstrated Jesus’ supernatural powers.

All three were prompted by Jesus’ compassion for the grieving relatives.

These dearly beloved and departed people were restored to their families.

They were brought back from death to continue this interrupted life.

Restored—but only for a time.

Like the ice stored for a frontier Oklahoma summer, their time was limited.

Nothing of this world lasts forever.

They were destined to die again.

But at a more convenient time, a less painful time for their families.

There’s a lot we can learn from these great miracles.

His display of power over nature should help us believe that Jesus is who he said he was.

His display of compassion should help us follow his example.

The ability of people to ignore his miracles should warn us of the fragility of the gift of faith.

We might feel tempted to envy Jairus and his wife, and the widow of Nain.

And Lazarus’ sisters, Martha and Mary.

Especially when we lose a loved one to death.

We might wish that Jesus was here now to restore our loved one to us.

But there's no need for envy; he’s provided something even better for us.

Not a mere raising back to this life.

But resurrection and reunion with our loved ones into a new eternal life.

A life of true peace and serenity--and joy.

A life that will never melt away.

Tuesday, Fourth Week of Ordinary Time

MK 5:21-43                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

What Do You Want from Me?

Three pastors--a Methodist, a Presbyterian and a Lutheran--walk into a coffee bar …

Sorry.  No joke here.

They just sit down with a Baptist pastor and me, to plan an interfaith Thanksgiving service.

But I did learn something interesting in our conversation.

We all use almost identical Lectionaries for our Scripture readings.

Our Mass readings follow a general pattern that may date back to the time of Moses.

Each day we read multiple passages drawn from different books of the Bible.

During the early years of the Church, those passages were selected and arranged.

And eventually became the book that we call the Lectionary.

On any day, the different selections might have a common message.

But then again, they might not.

Sometimes the readings just track along sequentially in the book they’re following.

This week, our First Readings are tracking along in Paul’s letter to the Hebrews.

And our Gospels are tracking along, independently, in Mark, Chapters 3 and 4.

But it doesn’t take a particularly keen eye or ear

To sense that, today, those two readings have a common message.

And today's Psalm was chosen to go along with that message.

In fact, that Psalm is the very Scripture that Paul was quoting in his letter.

And that Psalm was also one that Jesus clearly took to heart.

And probably had in mind when he spoke in today’s Gospel.

He was the personification, the fulfillment, of that message.

If repetition is the mother of learning, we should learn something today.

We hear the message repeated eight times.

We hear it twice in Paul’s letter.

We repeat it five times as the Psalm response.

And then we hear Jesus reference it again in the Gospel.

Here I am Lord, I come to do your will.

Jesus tells us how he feels about people who adopt and act on those words.

He embraces them as his immediate family.

His brother and sister and mother.

So we need to do only two things.

Know what God wills for us to do.

And do it.

But how can we, as individuals, know what God wills for us to do?

All we can really do is keep asking Him.

Tuesday, Third Week of Ordinary Time

MK 3:31-35   HEB 10:1-10                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

Hear and Share

Today, this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.

Pretty bold words from the young rabbi-prophet.

Claiming to be the embodied fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophesy.

Quite a tall order he was setting for himself to live up to.

Claiming to be anointed with the Spirit of the Lord,

To bring relief to the poor.

Claiming to be sent by God,

To liberate captives,

Give sight to the blind,

And free the oppressed.

If we were sitting in that synagogue on that Sabbath we might have wondered—

Just like most in that assembly did—

Who does this guy think he is.

But we benefit from the perspective of history.

We have the full story.

We know that he delivered on his claims.

We know who he really was.

We know that he was not only anointed with the Spirit of the Lord.

He was the Lord, the Son, the Second Person of the Trinity.

One in being with the Father and the Spirit.

And he was sent by the Father to bring relief to the poor.

Not only the materially poor, but also all of us who are poor in Spirit.

A strengthened Spirit to pursue what’s truly important in this life.

He did liberate those he met who were held captive and oppressed by disease and disability—

Through physical, mental and spiritual healings.

And he also sacrificed himself to liberate all of us from the captivity of sin.

Removing the walls that held us captive and separated from the Father.

He freed us from the effects of oppression in this life.

By teaching us and showing us that what matters most is the next life.

That we should Seek first the Kingdom of God.

He freed us from the oppression of the numerous, burdensome, strictly enforced Jewish laws.

By giving us just two simple commandments.

Love God with all your heart, soul and mind; and love your neighbor as yourself.

He gave sight to the blind

Both then and now.

Both literally and figuratively.

Jesus did all that.

He delivered on his claims.

He fulfilled the prophesy of Isaiah.

He could have proclaimed the work complete, and made it so.

But he chose to leave some of the work for us.

The continuation of building the Kingdom of Heaven on earth.

To do that, he draws us into one body.

He calls us his Church.

And he empowers us and calls on us to continue that work.

He continues to bring sight to the blind.

By opening our eyes to our blessings, our responsibilities and our mission.

We too are anointed with the Spirit of God for that mission—at Baptism.

We too are sent forth, by God, to bring relief to the poor.

To bring liberty to captives, sight to the blind, and freedom to the oppressed.

If all of that was a tall order for Jesus.

Even our scaled-down mission would be an impossible order for any one of us to accomplish alone.

But he gives us the Spirit and the grace to try.

As we heard in the letter to the Corinthians, he gives us our individual talents.

And when we bring our gifts together as one body, individual members working as one Church,

We can accomplish far more than we could acting alone.

Hard as we may be trying, we still have to wonder, Am I doing enough?

What more can I do?

What more should I be doing?

How can I do my part to build the Kingdom of God?

The organized Church helps and guides us in doing our part.

It helps us find those opportunities for service.

Helps us aggregate and multiply the benefits of our contributions.

Whether those contributions be from our time our talent or our treasure.

One of those opportunities is here for us now.

The Cardinal’s Appeal.

It’s an annual opportunity to share our material treasure.

To help meet the spiritual, educational, and temporal needs

Of parishes, schools and the people throughout our Archdiocese.

An opportunity to give back from the material gifts we’ve received.

Our bulletin gives more information on the good works we can support 

through the Cardinal’s Appeal.

And next week at Mass we’ll hear Cardinal Wuerl’s recorded appeal—asking us for our support.

In the mean time we can consider what part of our material wealth we’re willing and able to share.

What financial contribution we might share to support the work of building the Kingdom.

That scripture passage from Isaiah— repeated in our Gospel—is a good summary of our continuing work:

To bring relief to the poor.

To free the captives and the oppressed.

And to bring sight to the blind.

Two thousand years ago, Jesus stood in the synagogue and said

Today, this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.

Indeed, his work is now complete. 

In today’s world , it’s up to us to continue his work.

In this world today, this scripture passage is fulfilled in your sharing. 

Third Sunday of Ordinary Time

Lk 1:1-4; 4:14-21                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

Christian Slaves

Just two hundred years ago, the African slave trade was near its peak.

Regrettably, the Church had not yet become a staunch opponent to slavery.

It did however hold that slaves should be baptized before being taken to market.

Those slaves knew little or nothing of Christianity.

They hadn’t expressed any desire to become Christians.

But they would be gathered together and baptized in assembly-line ceremonies.

Those baptisms don’t seem like particularly holy or noble acts by the Church of that time.

They look more like forcing Christianity on uninterested or unwilling people.

People without the power to resist or object.

But part of the justification was that the baptism clearly established the personhood of the slave.

It refuted the position popular among some slave traders and slaveholders.

That these were sub-human creatures.

It’s a shameful thing to have to admit.

But it was mostly Christians who were buying and selling those poor slaves.

Most of those poor souls were destined to lives under the absolute control of a Christian master.

So the baptisms were intended to have an impact on those buyers, sellers and masters.

Even if many Christians of that era were blind to the fact that slavery was evil and un-Christian,

Their treatment of the slave might be tempered by acknowledgement that the slave was a person.

And not only a person, but a fellow Christian.

One significant benefit for the Christian slave was the entitlement to a rest from his or her labors.

Rest on the Sabbath.

As Jesus tells us in today’s Gospel.

The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.

We do have one of the Ten Commandments (the Third) directing us:

Remember to keep holy the Lord’s Day.

Physical rest was only part of the intended holiness of the Sabbath.

It was also a time set aside for other special human needs:

Worship, community, family activity and quiet contemplation.

Keeping the Sabbath holy is indeed a command, and we are supposed to obey it.

But not, as the Pharisees viewed it, merely for the sake of obeying the law.

That Third Commandment is there, just like the other nine, for our benefit.

Not just as a test, or as a requirement for entry into the next life.

But as wise divine guidance for happiness in this life.

Tuesday Second Week of Ordinary Time

Mk 2:23-28                                  Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

New Beginnings

Every day is a new beginning with new possibilities.

You might even say every second is a new beginning.

Life can change in a second, a happy turn or a sad turn.

An epiphany or a conversion (or a further conversion) can happen in an instant.

Even though it may have been building up over years.

Today we’re surrounded by examples and invitations to new beginnings and new possibilities.

These invitations, like the new beginnings, occur more than once; so they’re not completely new.

They’re cyclical, but they bring a newness and freshness each time they come around.

They can serve as reminders and rekindlers for our faith and our motivation.

We see some new beginnings in our recent scripture readings.

Last Sunday we had the Baptism of the Lord.

The start of Jesus’ public ministry.

Today we hear of Jesus’ first miracle—The beginning of his signs.

Compared to later miracles, this first one might seem like a modest start.

Changing water into wine isn’t as important as:

Curing lepers, cripples, the blind, the deaf, and the possessed.

Or raising the dead.

But it was very important to that wedding family at that moment.

They didn't ask; they wouldn't have known to ask.

But Mary was attentive to the family’s need.

And she knew that her son could do something about it.

Jesus hesitated, saying: My hour has not yet come.

But he went ahead at his mother’s urging—his mother’s invitation.

It was an important miracle to all of us, because it convinced his disciples to believe in him.

We have some new beginnings in our secular lives as well.

Our year is still new—just three weeks old.

And hopefully we still have some optimism left in us.

Today is the actual inauguration day for a new presidential term.

The ceremonial day is tomorrow, but the official inauguration is today.

Within the past few weeks we’ve had the start of a new congress.

May our new and renewed leaders be attentive to the needs of their people.

This is a busy week of new cycles and new beginnings and rekindlers.

Along with the inauguration we also celebrate Martin Luther King Day.

And Friday, we have the March for Life.

And the whole week is designated a Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.

Many of us remember seeing Martin Luther King in person or on the TV news.

As he led the struggle against racial injustice.

Those who didn’t live through that era can still see and hear his recorded speeches.

And see the news videos of the sit-ins and the marches.

And the dogs, the fire hoses, the clubs, the guns and the bombed homes and churches.

Martin Luther King was certainly attentive to the needs of his people—the whole nation.

And their needs were great and the issues were of enormous spiritual and societal importance.

I remember the riots,

And the soldiers in the streets of Cincinnati where I was living when he was killed.

Here in Washington, rioters burned down H Street.

Just a few years later I started law school at Boston University.

On campus, they proudly displayed a plaque marking the building

Where Martin Luther King had earned his Doctor of Theology degree.

And with that training, and his spirit, and his character, he set off on his new beginning.

He brought our country, through years of struggle, to another new beginning.

He didn’t fight and win the battle alone.

But he was the key recognized political and spiritual leader of the movement.

Friday, we’ll have this year’s March for Life.

Another annual event in another struggle for human rights.

Another struggle for people in great need, and issues of enormous spiritual and societal importance.

Even if we’re attentive to such problems, none of us can solve them alone.

All we can do, in these great matters, is to make sure we do our own part.

Maybe our part is simply to pray. 

Maybe our part is to take some further action.

Maybe even to lead the way to new solutions.

We do give attention to the big societal issues and to the small personal issues.

But it's hard to know if we're really doing enough.

Is God calling us to focus on a particular issue?

Where should we be directing our energy and our talents?

What are our talents?

St Paul offers a nice list to consider in today’s second reading.

As deacon, I attend a lot of Masses.

And I get to listen to a lot of great homilies.

I've noticed that over the past couple weeks, Fr Begg has had a recurring message:

An invitation to pray.

This seems like a good time to jump on that bandwagon.

Let’s seize on this time of new beginnings.

Our hour has  come.

Let’s be more attentive to the needs of those around us—and to our own needs.

Let’s get to know more about God's plan for us, what he's calling us to do.

To do that, we need to talk with him and listen for his guidance.

And we don't have to start with some dramatic, extraordinary effort.

We can begin by reserving just 15 quiet minutes a day.

A brief regular time slot reserved for prayer—that is for talking to and listening to God.

If we’re already faithfully doing that, we might pray for guidance in stepping it up a notch.

Let that be our new beginning—

Starting today, a new life in closer personal communication with God.

Second Sunday of Ordinary Time

Jn 2:1-11                                  Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

Psychiatric Assessment

(from Tuesday, January 15)

Last month the American Psychiatric Association dropped Asperger’s Syndrome

From its diagnostic manual.

Now, it’s just one relatively mild level in the broader range of disorders classified as autism.

Mental conditions, and what to call them, and how to deal with them, are an age-old problem.

We see in today’s Gospel that there’s a lot that hasn’t changed in 2000 years.

We’re told that in the synagogue there was a man with an unclean spirit.

Unclean or evil spirits often indicated what we now call mental health or behavioral problems.

It’s not clear what the man’s tone was when he addressed Jesus.

What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?  Have you come to destroy us?

Was he aggressive and belligerent?  Or meek and cowering?

Maybe he had a persecution complex, maybe he was paranoid.

Whatever his problem was, Jesus recognized it immediately.

And just as quickly, cured it. 

He had that absolute power and authority over nature.

We don’t.

So how can we deal with people who have significant mental health and behavioral problems?

It seems that, as a society, we’ve made a lot of progress.

At least in comparison to the snake-pit asylums and lobotomies of the not too distant past.

We’re now able to fix or treat a lot of problems.

With counseling or drugs or both.

It’s harder to tell how much progress we’ve made in comparison to those biblical times.

The man in the synagogue seems to have been somewhat mainstreamed.

He’s there with the rest of the people.

And we hear of others with evil spirits who seemed to remain part of their families.

Like the boy who would throw himself into the fire and into the water.

But there were others who were ostracized, like the demoniac who was chained to the tombs.

Perhaps, like today, there were many among the beggars lining the streets.

There’s clearly a broad spectrum of problems; a vast range in the degrees of disorder.

While society struggles to find cures and to find ways to deal with the afflicted,

What can we do as individuals?

We can be more aware and understanding.

For the clearly needy, we can offer a kind word and try to help them find support.

For the offensive, we can reserve judgment and not write them off as being evil themselves.

We can give time or money or votes to support programs to find cures and to aid the afflicted.  

Jesus saw a person in need, and he used what power and authority he had to help.

We can do that too.

Tuesday Week 1 of Ordinary Time

Mk 1:21-28                                   Read this Scripture @usccb.org  

Feeding the Hungry

What can we offer to feed the hungry? 

The physically hungry and the spiritually hungry.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus feeds thousands with just a few loaves and fishes.

That feeding is recognized as a foreshadowing of the Eucharist.

At the Last Supper, Jesus repeats words similar to those in this passage.

And the priest repeats them in every Mass, at the consecration and elevation:

… looking up to heaven, he said the blessing, broke the loaves,

     and gave them to his disciples.

These are familiar words.

And we’re well aware that more is being offered than just the physical food.

We realize that the food is also a symbol of Jesus offering his whole self.

Especially when we hear the added phrases: This is my body and This is my blood.

And know that the bread and wine have passed even beyond the symbolic stage.

And have actually been transformed in substance.

We’re familiar with all that, even if we can’t fully explain the miracle.

But today’s Gospel passage also presents a less familiar line.

The disciples express their concern over the crowd’s need for food.

And Jesus responds, Give them some food yourselves.

Of course, the disciples can’t do that on their own.

But they do participate in the feeding effort.

They scout up the five loaves and two fishes.

They distribute the miraculously multiplied food to the crowd of thousands.

And they collect the leftovers.

That idea of active participation is also carried into our Eucharistic celebration.

Before the consecration and the elevation,

We bring our gifts to the altar.

We bring the bread and wine—the works of human hands.

But at that point they are already taking on added symbolic meaning.

They represent all the gifts that all of us offer.

Then we each join in praying that the gift we chose to offer may be acceptable to God.

We also add a few drops of water, symbolizing us, into the wine.

And pray: By the mixture of this water and wine may we come to share in the divinity of Christ,

Who humbled himself to share in our humanity.

It’s only after all that is done that we move on to the consecration.

So, before consecration, the bread and wine are already steeped in symbolism.

And it’s that symbol-packed bread and wine,

Already mingled with the gifts we’ve offered,

That is ultimately transubstantiated into the body and blood of Christ.

Whatever individual gift we offer gets incorporated into the body and blood of Christ.

So, considering all that, what can we offer to feed the hungry?

Would we offer anything less than our whole self?

Tuesday after Epiphany

Mk 6:34-44                                    Read this Scripture @usccb.org