At the Gates

We’ve been focused on the violence in Syria.

The tens of thousands being killed in civil war.

What can we do about it?

Do we have the power or ability for a successful intervention?

Should we intervene at all?

Meanwhile, the chemical warfare and other atrocities mount.

Last week opposition forces, led by radical Islamists, took over the town of Maaloula.

An ancient Christian town where some still speak Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke.

Radicals reportedly threatened to behead any Christian who refused to convert to Islam.

Less than a hundred miles from Maaloula, near Nazareth, lies the ancient town of Nain.

Now a small Arab village.

Two thousand years ago Jesus stood near the gate of Nain.

And he was moved with compassion by what he saw.

A sorrow-filled crowd with a weeping widow on their way to bury her only son.

He was so moved because he cared so deeply for the widow.

And for all his people.

He was so moved that he intervened—and raised the young man back to life.

There’s a powerful, successful intervention for you!

Yesterday our attention was yanked back from Syria, thousands of miles away,

To the Navy Yard, just a few blocks down the street.

Families here are weeping now.

Feeling the same painful sorrow that wounded the widow of Nain.

They’re burdened with not only that pain of losing a loved one,

But also the added pain of anger and despair at the wanton, evil violence.

And that pain, especially that added pain, is felt by the whole community.

Just as it is in Syria.

And as it was in Newtown and Ft Hood and Aurora and Columbine.

And everywhere life-robbing evil strikes.

When we look at today’s Gospel we might say:

How blessed they were in Nain!

What comfort we could have if Jesus had been standing near the gate of the Navy Yard!

…

Well, take that comfort.

Because he was there.

And he has already intervened for us.

He’s raised us to something even greater than temporarily restored life.
He's given us eternal life.

He’s opened the gates of Heaven.

When our shock and pain and anger and despair are fresh, it’s hard for us to see.

But when we’ve had some time, when we look carefully, we see---

He’s always there for us.

Tuesday, 24th Week in Ordinary Time

Lk 7:11-17           Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Just Do It

There’s a book and movie about a local DC-area boy named Chris McCandless.

He graduated from Annandale high school.

He was friendly, bright, capable, athletic, independent and idealistic.

He went away to college in Atlanta.

And as soon as he graduated from college,

He cut off all communications with his family, without explanation.

It turns out that he was nursing a secret grudge against his father.

Because of some mistakes he learned that his father had made years earlier.

Chris went West to explore the deserts and the wilderness.

His family yearned for his return.

But he was lost to them.

Chris hiked and hitchhiked around the West working odd jobs.

He was an experienced hiker and decided to test himself.

He decided to walk alone into the Alaskan wilderness with few supplies.

He would survive by hunting game and by finding edible plants.

And he did exactly that—for months—alone.

He took some classic books with him.

He read a lot and thought a lot.

He read Thoreau, and Chesterton and Pasternak, and other philosophical authors.

They strengthened his appreciation and love of nature.

And also gave him new insights into personal relationships.

His readings perhaps led him to forgive his father and decide,

After years of separation, to return home.

Chris’ story is both very similar and very different from our Gospel stories.

They all deal with losing and finding, and mercy and forgiveness.

The father of the prodigal son was extravagant in his mercy and forgiveness.

When he saw his son returning to him he didn’t wait.

He ran to his son and embraced him.

Before his son could barely apologize,

The father was restoring him to his honored position,

and starting a great celebration.

Wouldn’t it be great to have an extravagantly merciful, forgiving father like that?

Well, we do!

That’s the main point of today’s Gospel.

That’s the good news of today’s Gospel.

God is that father, and we’re that lost son.

God is that shepherd, and we’re that lost sheep.

God is that woman, and we’re that lost coin.

And there is always great joy and celebration when we’re found again.

That’s how God will receive us when we turn to him.

These three stories in today’s Gospel may be the

Greatest good-news stories we sinners will ever hear.

But the Gospel also raises other, less direct messages.

We know that we should try to imitate God’s love and mercy.

The prodigal son’s older brother can’t seem to do that.

Can we?

Can we be that merciful father, or mother, or spouse, or sibling, or friend?

As in these three stories,

It seems that Jesus is forever trying to teach us a lesson.

Telling us and showing us how to treat one another.

“Love one another as I have loved you.”

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

Chris McCandless, in his Alaskan adventure, wasn't trying to teach us a lesson.

But he did.

Chis may have decided to forgive and to return home.

But he never made it.

He died of starvation, alone at his Alaskan campsite.

Let’s heed the unintended lesson that Chris gave us.

We don’t have forever to act.

Let’s turn to our father—now.

Let’s rejoice at his extravagant forgiveness and mercy.

And let’s give our forgiveness and mercy wherever it’s needed – now.

24th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lk 15:1-32           Read this Scripture @usccb.org

What's Next?

Every now and then we realize that we’re at a crucial decision point in our lives.

As we look back over the Gospel readings of the past few days,

We see that Jesus was heading toward one of those decision points.

His followers were increasing in great number.

The Pharisees and Scribes and Herodians were increasingly critical and confrontational.

They were actually beginning to plot against him.

If the full details of his mission weren’t already clear to him they were becoming clear.

He could see that he wasn’t going to be able to fit into the established structures.

He had to decide where to go from there.

So Jesus withdrew to a mountain, alone, to pray.

And not just for a spiritual recharge—an hour of quiet prayer and reflection.

He had to fully assess the situation.

Make some calculations like a man building a tower or a general going into battle.

And decide how he would proceed.

He must have had a lot to consider.

A lot to discuss with the Father.

Things even more important than which twelve disciples to choose as apostles.

Perhaps he received new revelations about the Father’s plan.

Gory details about his mission and what he was being called to do.

Perhaps he had to make a new commitment to that mission.

He spent the entire night in prayer.

In conversation with the Father.

And in the morning he took clear steps to push forward with his mission.

We all have our callings.

But even after we’ve set out on our path, we still have to find our way through life.

It’s a never-ending journey, until life itself ends.

God has a plan for each of us, and if we can tune into that plan—Plan-A—life is simpler.

If we miss our true calling, life can be more of a struggle.

But God is persistent; he hangs in there with us and gives us new callings.

Some say God is the Master of Plan-B.

Life is always changing, and it’s important to step back and reassess from time-to-time.

Even if we don’t recognize that we’re at a crucial decision point.

Even if we think we’re generally on track with Plan-A.

It might be time for some fine-tuning, a little tweak.

Or it might be time for a more radical change.

We don’t often face decisions that require us to spend our entire night in prayer.

But we do need to listen always—attentively: What is the Spirit calling me to do now?

Whether we’re called to great tasks or small.

Whether we’re called to be apostles or little-known disciples.

Our ultimate response to our calling is crucial to us, and even to the world.

Tuesday, 23rd Week in Ordinary Time

Lk 6:12-19           Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Hound of Heaven

Two neighboring churches engaged in a spirited dialog on their lettered front-yard signs.

Serial pictures of the signs posted on the Internet have drawn millions of viewers seeing:

ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN

ONLY HUMANS GO TO HEAVEN, READ YOUR BIBLE

GOD LOVES ALL HIS CREATURES, DOGS INCLUDED

DOGS DON’T HAVE SOULS, THIS IS NOT OPEN FOR DEBATE

CATHOLIC DOGS GO TO HEAVEN,

PRESBYTERIAN DOGS CAN TALK TO THEIR PASTOR

CONVERTING TO CATHOLICISM

DOES NOT MAGICALLY GRANT YOUR DOG A SOUL

FREE DOG SOULS WITH CONVERSION

DOGS ARE ANIMALS

THERE AREN’T ANY ROCKS IN HEAVEN EITHER

ALL ROCKS GO TO HEAVEN

As it turns out, the great sign debate never actually took place in the churchyards.

Someone with an active imagination, and Photoshop, faked it all on the Internet.

But the fabricated jousting draws us to a real question.

What do we know to be absolutely true about souls and spirits?

Quite a bit; we’ve recognized ourselves as spiritual beings for thousands of years.

We know it’s the soul that animates the body.

We know that humans are both physical body and spiritual soul.

But there’s also a lot about the invisible spiritual world that we don’t know.

We have to settle for a poor partial understanding.

Much or most of our “understanding” comes to us only through faith.

And some things remain a total mystery.

We clearly recognize that the unseen spiritual world exists.

We believe in one god, the Father almighty, maker of … all things visible and invisible.

At death, observers can’t see, hear, smell, taste or feel the departing spirit.

But they know that animating spirit has left.

Today, our Gospel presents a dialog between two spirits who recognize one another.

The evil spirit in the possessed man immediately recognizes the inner spirit of Jesus.

It sees him and recognizes him as the holy one of God.

And Jesus immediately recognizes that other spirit as an evil spirit, and drives it away.

The once-possessed man still has his own soul, his own spirit.

But he had been spiritually infected with that evil spirit as well.

Today is also the feast of Gregory the Great, one of the four original Doctors of the Church.

A great thinker, scholar, and teacher.

Who in the 6^th Century pondered and wrote of the soul in his book of Dialogues.

Bad news for our puppies—he sided with the Presbyterian in our fake Internet dialog.

He reasoned that non-human animals have souls, but unlike our souls, theirs are mortal.

They die along with the body.

But good news—the Church has never declared his position to be puppy dogma.

His Dialogues also recognized the evolving human understanding of the spiritual world.

He asked, How do we know so much about the soul today—in 590—

When we knew so little in ages past?

He answered, The current world moves toward its end and the new world approaches.

And as that new world draws closer we see it more clearly.

Much as we see with increasing clarity as we move gradually from night to day.

We’re in the twilight and see images, but have no perfect knowledge of the new world.

Fifteen hundred years later, we’re still in the twilight.

We still can’t grasp or prove invisible spirits with our five senses.

And our knowledge of the soul is still imperfect.

But we now have equipment that lets us look into the human brain and “see” thoughts.

Maybe God will someday give us the science to better understand souls and spirits.
We might have specter-detector goggles.

Until then, or until we arrive at the new world, we can refine the tools and gifts we have.

We can work at listening to the Spirit within us, the voice of Jesus, the voice of God.

Work at discerning spirits, distinguishing that voice from others we might hear.

Work at connecting with the spirit within others.

We can already see them.

Not through our physical eyes.

But through our spiritual eyes.

Through the eyes of faith.

Tuesday, 22nd Week in Ordinary Time

Lk 4:31-37           Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Woe to Leaders

The first half of our Mass is devoted to the Liturgy of the Word.

We have our First Reading, usually from the Old Testament, sometimes from the New.

That’s followed by a Psalm with responses, and then a Gospel passage.

On Sundays and special feasts we also insert a Second Reading from the New Testament.

But how do we decide which Scripture passages to read?

We follow a guide called the Ordo, and a set of books called the Lectionary.

There has been some form of Lectionary since at least the 5^th Century.

The first is attributed to St Jerome.

That first Lectionary covered only Sundays.

But it has evolved over the years though many updates,

Under the guidance of Church committees.

The current Lectionary covers weekdays as well as Sundays.

It has a three-year Sunday cycle that covers all four Gospels in considerable detail.

One year each for Matthew, Mark and Luke.

And with John repeated each year during the Lenten and Easter season.

The weekday Lectionary follows a two-year cycle.

Again, allowing for a fairly comprehensive coverage of each Book of the Gospels.

But even so, it doesn’t provide a complete verse-by-verse reading through each Book.

Some verses are skipped over, especially in the Sunday sequences.

And serial weekday installments are sometimes replaced by readings for a saint’s memorial.

Today’s Gospel gives us a second day of sharp criticism and warnings to religious leaders.

Woe to you scribes and Pharisees.

You hypocrites, you blind guides.

And tomorrow, our Gospel will continue with a third day of warnings.

This three-day repetition seems like something the committees could have trimmed down.

But they didn’t.

And that’s encouraging.

It shows that those committee members, themselves all Church leaders,

See the vital importance of leaders serving well and fully meeting their responsibilities.

They see the dangers, and the need for repeating the warnings.

They’re aware of the devastating damage that blind guides and hypocrites can do.

Today’s message to leaders is—focus on the most important things.

Give appropriate attention to the smaller matters, but don’t exaggerate their importance.

Devote your efforts to judgment and mercy and fidelity.

Focus on the two great commandments—love God and neighbor.

Today’s message is not only for high-ranking Church leaders, but for all of us.

It’s direct guidance from Jesus himself to each of us as members of his Church.

Telling us how to stay on the path to the peace of his kingdom.

But it’s also guidance to each of us as leaders.

Because as members of his Church we are also leaders.

There are always others looking to our example as they search to find their own way.

Tuesday, 21st Week in Ordinary Time

Mt 23:23-26           Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Mission Accomplished

In 1862 there was a battle at Malvern Hill near Richmond.

A Union captain tells in his diary of a heart wrenching incident in that battle.

A young Confederate officer and his small patrol held a key position some distance away.

The Confederate officer was rallying his men and blocking the Union advance.

So, the Union captain called for his veteran sharpshooter, Sgt Driscoll.

He asked him to try to take out that troublesome Confederate officer.

Sgt Driscoll took careful aim and shot.

He brought down his target, and the leaderless rebel troops ran off.

As the Union troops advanced they neared the fallen Confederate, face down in the field.

The captain and Sgt Driscoll checked to see if he was still alive.

Sgt Driscoll turned the body over, and his eyes met those of the young Confederate.

As they recognized each other, the dying young man spoke his last word—Father!

That Civil War took 750,000 lives.

And led to many tragic stories of divided families.

Father against son, mother against daughter, and brother against brother.

These family divisions didn’t necessarily stem from, or even lead to, anger or hatred.

They were the inevitable result of differing beliefs and priorities and choices.

Divided families were most often found in the border states,

Where members moved in both cultures and allegiances were most easily split.

The Georgetown University student body was also deeply split.

Nearly all left to fight—some for the North, and some for the South.

After the war, the returning students helped to choose the colors for the school insignia.

In a spirit of unity and reconciliation they chose Union blue and Confederate gray.

Today, our country is again (or still) deeply divided.

So far, the anger and hatred in our country is mostly contained at verbal warfare.

But deep divisions and civil wars are taking over 100,000 lives in Syria and Libya.

And hundreds are dying in Egypt.

And here at home, as well as abroad, we still have all the age-old divisiveness.

Conflicts that have plagued families since the days of Cain and Abel.

Ranging all the way from simple tension, to domestic violence, to murder.

Amid all that, we come upon today’s Gospel passage.

And Jesus says, Do you think I have come to establish peace on earth?

Our honest answer is probably, Yes, as a matter of fact I did.

And when he goes on to say, No, I tell you—but rather division. 

We might be tempted to respond with, Well then, Mission Accomplished!

Our division is clear from a quick look at the daily news.

Or at the state of our families and our country and the world.

How can we reconcile Jesus’ words of division today

With his many other references to his mission of peace and unity.

At the Last Supper he said, My peace I give to you.

And we repeat that at every Mass.

He prayed to the Father that we might all be one, with him and with each other.

He said a house divided cannot stand.

The Gospels and the Church make many other claims that Jesus brought peace and unity.

We offer each other the sign of peace.

We pray: You came to gather the nations into the peace of God’s kingdom.

You are mighty God and Prince of Peace.

You came to reconcile us to one another and to the Father.

You heal the wounds of sin and division.

Those positive messages reflect Jesus’ ultimate mission--

Bringing reconciliation, unity and peace.
On the other hand, today’s discouraging words on division

Reflect Jesus’ realism concerning our process for claiming that peace.

They reflect his understanding of the human nature he shared with us.

He knew that he was forcing us to make another crucial life decision.

Make another choice; profess a new allegiance.

He knew that we would be like those people in the border states 
With one foot in each of two worlds.
That some would embrace his message and others would not.

There would be tension.

Strong feelings and strong disagreements about the truth of his revelations.

Divisions between those who have accepted his message and those who have not.

The Good News is that Jesus didn't bring only division.
He brought the opportunity for peace and unity.
He completed his ultimate mission.

He reached his goal of reconciling us to the Father.

And establishing the kingdom of heaven here on earth.

When he said, My peace I give to you.

He added that his peace was different from the world’s peace.

His is a deep, abiding, inner peace.

A calming peace that lets us bear the temporary divisions and sufferings of this world.

Because we know that ultimately a better world awaits us.

That better world, that kingdom of heaven on earth, is already here today.

It’s growing and it’s available to everyone who chooses to claim it.

Jesus established it, but has left it to us to continue building it up.

That’s our mission.

To enter the kingdom ourselves.

And to help others enter.

God does not will that even one of us be lost.

So we work to spread his message of true peace and unity.

And try to gently help draw in everyone who stands on the other side of the divide.

And for each new member who embraces the message and enters,

We can repeat—now with all sincerity—Mission Accomplished.

20th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lk 12:49-53           Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Little Ones

The other day, I was in a museum gift shop.

A little girl, about five years old, was looking at a large butterfly encased in a plastic cube.

And two little boys were looking at books nearby.

She turned to them and said, I’ve seen a butterfly like that.

One of the little boys, of similar age, answered her, I’ve seen lots of them.

To which she responded, Well I’ve seen hundreds.

He said, I’ve seen thousands.

She upped the ante, I’ve probably seen a million.

At that point, the other boy, slightly older, joined in with a sarcastic, Sure you have.

Are these the humble little children Jesus was talking about in today’s Gospel?

They sound more like the disciples.

Concerned over who’s the greatest, who can outdo whom?

Kids were much the same two thousand years ago.

So, Jesus wasn’t holding that child out as the model of perfect humility.

He was using the child as a model of truly humble status.

A person fully dependent on someone else.

A person who doesn’t have all the answers.

A person unable to make it, to even survive, without help.

A person who, at least deep-down, sees and acknowledges that dependence.

Who is the greatest in the Kingdom of heaven?

What an inappropriate question!

What a lack of understanding of what heaven is about.

But maybe we have to give the disciples a break.

What’s obvious to us now, wasn’t so obvious to them.

Unlike us, they hadn’t yet heard all that Jesus would teach about heaven.

So he teaches them.

Your ambition is to be recognized as greater than the others in heaven?

You imagine you have the power and ability to earn such a position for yourself?

With that attitude, you can’t even get through the gate.

You’ve got to drop that ambition and self assurance.

And acknowledge that you’re as powerless and dependent as this little child.

Of course, that applies to us today as well.

We’ve been blessed with so many gifts.

The gift of life, the gift of faith, the gift of Jesus’ teaching, the gift of salvation.

We didn’t do anything to earn them.

They can’t be earned; they’re gifts.

We are in fact like that child Jesus called over, fully dependent upon someone else.

Fully dependent upon those gifts.

We are in fact the little ones that Jesus spoke of.

Our job is to recognize and acknowledge that.

And to appreciate and cooperate with the gifts we’ve been given.

To do all we can in our poor limited power to get ourselves through that gate.

And not to push ahead of as many as we can, but to help along as many as we can.

To not only be the little ones, but also receive the little ones.

It’s good to be counted among the little ones.

There’s Good News and great consolation for us.

Especially if we should happen to go astray.

Jesus assures us that our heavenly Father will come looking for us.

He’ll rejoice at bringing us back.

And best of all, it is not His will that even one of us be lost.

Tuesday of the 19th Week in Ordinary Time

Mt 18:1~14           Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Pep Talk

We can all use a pep talk now and then.

We might just be weary.

Or we might be suffering from uncertainty, doubt, lack of confidence, or fear.

Especially if we’re getting ready for something that’s going to push us to our limits.

We might need a little reassurance,

A little boost to our faith in ourselves and in our cause.

Words from a trusted leader or advisor.

The coach before the big match.

The general before the big battle.

The mentor before the big step.

The Transfiguration was a great reassurance to the apostles.

Assuring them they were on the right track, that Jesus truly was the Messiah.

Our passage from the Letter of Peter shows how profoundly impressed he was.

He’s assuring the new disciples that he and John and James were eyewitnesses.

They actually saw Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus!

They heard God’s voice from heaven say:

This is my Son, my beloved, in whom I am well pleased.

And that great event becomes not only their assurance.

But assurance they can pass down through generations of disciples, to us.

Another piece of evidence for any of us needing a little boost of faith.

But one line struck me as I reread Luke’s Gospel account.

[They] spoke of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem.

As Moses led the Israelites out of the grip of the Egyptians,

Jesus would soon lead the world out of the grip of death.

But the accomplishment would require great sacrifice and suffering from Jesus.

Maybe this event wasn’t all about us.

Executed to give the apostles and us some reassurance.

Maybe the main purpose was to reassure someone else.

What did Jesus know and when did he know it?

He knew all that he learned through his frequent listening to God in prayer.

But did he know that he was actually God himself?

More than just a vague understanding or a firm belief.

But actual, certain knowledge?

What restrictions did God the Son place on his own knowledge when he became man?

When did Jesus fully know that he was God?

In the womb?

In the manger?

In the temple?

In the Jordan with John the Baptist?

On the mountain with Moses and Elijah?

Or perhaps, outside the tomb on Easter morning.

Whether Jesus had full knowledge that he was God or not,

He knew that he was already weary from the burdens of his mission.

He saw that his time of extreme suffering in Jerusalem would soon be upon him.

It was a great blessing from the Father to send him encouragement.

And to send it with such convincing and reassuring power.

Through  a personal visit from messengers no less than Moses and Elijah.

And through His own direct, audible, fatherly voice from heaven.

It was an unmistakable sign to Jesus that he was on the right path.

And that he was in good hands.

The Transfiguration may not have been all about us.

But it was, in large part, meant for us too.

Not only to bolster our faith in Jesus.

But to show the kind of Father we have.

One who sends us encouragement and comfort and guidance.

If we’ll just look for His messengers and recognize them when they come.

And learn to recognize His voice.

The Feast of the Transfiguration
Tuesday of the 18th Week in Ordinary Time

Mt 13:24-43           Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Weeds

A couple years ago I had a brief encounter with a most interesting man.

Dominic was a very affable fellow.

And he struck up a conversation with me.

We quickly found that we had a few things in common.

He’d spent his teen years in Connecticut

As had I.

He’d moved to NY, and often took the subway out to Shea Stadium to see the Mets.

I used to take the train from Hartford and go to Shea Stadium when my favorite team,

the Cincinnati Reds, came to NY.

He had considered going to law school – I had.

We were also different in many ways.

Nick, as he preferred to be called,

Was probably twenty years younger than me.

And much blacker than me.

He’d spent a number of years in the Marine Corps.

And had spent many of those years in Europe and the Middle East.

I was never in the military, and have spent only brief vacations in Europe.

Nick was clearly an intelligent person.

He was quite well spoken, well read, and well educated.

He told me that he’d recently written a book about a black soldier.

And he pulled a copy from his duffle bag to show me.

He said it was available on Amazon.

He spoke Spanish and at least a bit of German.

When I referred to someone as a “good chap”,

Nick launched into a strong British accent and began to tell me about his time in London.

What struck me most about Nick,

What I can’t forget about Nick,

Was the odd circumstance of our meeting.

We met in a vacant field over by where New York Avenue crosses I-395.

A few of us from St Joseph’s were over there.

Feeding the homeless.

I didn’t notice him at first.

But Nick was there in the field, mixed in among the crowd.

Standing there with the other homeless.

Well, not all were homeless.

Some have a place to live.

But they can’t afford an apartment and food too.

A few were elderly poor.

Some were people just temporarily down on their luck.

Others had alcohol or drug addictions.

Probably most had mental health issues to some degree.

It wasn’t until I heard a little commotion behind me

That I turned and saw Nick.

He was good-naturedly bantering with a couple others in the soup line.

Those others seemed to have been on the verge of an argument.

But Nick had diffused the situation with his humor.

And that’s when our conversation began.

It continued off-and-on as the food was distributed.

A few sentences here, a few comments there.

A joke, a story.

And then the crowd began to drift away from the field.

Nick was telling me about London

When he noticed that his group was already heading down the block.

He said, Gotta run, where the crowd goes, the fool must follow.

And he was gone.

But I keep thinking – he should never have been in that cluster in the field.

Maybe that’s why I can’t forget him.

With a superficial look at the crowd that sprang up that day in that field

Any one of us might have taken it for a field of weeds.

Whether the weeds represent the bad, among the good wheat.

Or whether the weeds represent the worthless, among the valuable wheat.

We’re in no position to judge the wheat from the weeds.

That’s why Jesus tells us in his parable to let them grow together.

Our view is too often a superficial view.

Nick might have easily been mistaken for one of the weeds.

Who’s to say there were any weeds in that field that day.

Even when we think we’re looking carefully and closely

We can only see so far beyond the purely superficial.

Only God can see into the heart.

So, whenever we catch ourselves slipping into the trap of judging others,

Let’s pull ourselves back to our proper role.

The role of giving the assistance, and setting the example

That will help the Spirit spread the Kingdom of Heaven right here on earth.

Anything is possible in the Kingdom of Heaven.

If we do our part

Perhaps the Spirit will touch any true weeds and transform them into true wheat.

And when Jesus comes with his angels at the close of the age

The Spirit will have already completed his work.

And the angels will find no weeds to destroy.

Tuesday of the 17th Week in Ordinary Time

Mt 13:24-43           Read this Scripture @usccb.org 
(OK, I fudged the link to give the full parable)

Hey, You're Family

A good friend might say, Hey, I’m going to treat you like family!

We might say in return, Gee, I hope you’ll treat me better than that!

None of us has a perfect family.

But, like many, I’m blessed with a great family—both immediate and extended.

Unfortunately that’s not the case for everyone.

Our family can be our basic foundation of great love and loyalty and strength.

Or a hotbed of discontent, disappointment, rivalry and betrayal

Or a mix of many of those things.

Even those contradictory things.

Family relationships can be complex.

Some of us no longer have our families.

We may be the last surviving member of a family.

We may be distant or estranged from our family.

Families don’t always measure up to the ideal image the term conjures up.

The old lament is true (at least with our blood relatives).

You can pick your friends but you can’t pick your family.

And for some of us our friends are, in effect, our family.

We might feel more closely bound to a group of good friends than to our family.

We might even call that group our “family”.

But the deep bonds of our childhood family identity remain.

Even when family relationships are far less than ideal.

You can’t choose them, and you can’t lose them.

And that image of the ideal family also remains.

When someone tells us we’re like a brother or a sister—that we’re like family—

They’re referring to that ideal.

They’re giving us an extreme compliment. 

So what does Jesus mean with his words today?

Whoever does the will of my heavenly Father is my brother and sister and mother.

He’s certainly not belittling Mary or his other natural relatives.

He’s extending that extreme compliment to each of us.

Even more, he’s reminding us that we are indeed his family.

We’re all truly brothers and sisters to each other and to him.

We all have but one common Father—in heaven.

He’s saying he wants us to be as close to him as that ideal brother or sister or mother.

And he’s telling us how to reach that ideal—by doing the Father’s will.

He’s urging us to help deepen our intimate familial bond with him.

Tuesday of the 16th Week in Ordinary Time

Mt 12:46-50           Read this Scripture @usccb.org 

Don't Worry---Be Happy

Don’t Worry—Be Happy.

Advice from a hit song some years ago.

A nice simple approach to life.

The singer/writer, Bobby Ferrin, said he got the phrase from an Indian guru’s poster.

Simple advice, but no easier to follow today than it was two thousand years ago,

Where we look in on Martha.

Martha is anxious and worried about many things.

Jesus is stopping in for a visit.

She’s got preparations to make.

She’s got a guest to welcome and serve.

Jesus is a good friend.

He’s often come to her home to visit her and her sister Mary and their brother Lazarus.

But a little formal hospitality is part of their culture.

Jesus may be a friend, but he’s also an important teacher and leader.

And Martha wants everything to go smoothly.

It’s not hard to relate to Martha.

We’re all anxious and worried about many things.

We’re all burdened with responsibilities and work.

Even if they’re responsibilities we’re happy to take on.

And work we love to do.

They’re still burdens—on our limited time if nothing more.

We start out as carefree children.

But soon we have classes to take, tests to pass.

Chores to do, rules to obey.

Skills to learn.

Then, we’ve got jobs to find.

Careers to pursue.

Bills to pay.

Homes to keep.

Families to care for.

And a hundred other things.

Necessary things.

It’s good to be busy.

But sometimes our days are too full.

Too full of activities and too full of anxieties.

Financial worries, health worries, worries about friends and family.

Worries about the world.

For some of us it’s an occasional problem.

For some of us it seems never ending.

We’re tense, and tired, and sleep deprived.

And even if we find time to sleep, we’re so wound up we can’t.

We suffer insomnia and even depression.

Amid all that anxiety and busyness, it’s easy to miss out on the better part of life.

That part that Martha’s sister Mary takes up in today’s Gospel.

Martha bounces around, frazzled with all that needs to be done.

Mary quietly sits listening to Jesus, enjoying his company and conversation.

Martha’s so frustrated and overworked that she complains to her guest.

Hey Jesus, don’t you care that I’m stuck alone with all this work?

Tell Mary to help me.

Martha’s surprised, and maybe we are too,

When Jesus approves of Mary’s slacker behavior.

Jesus tells her, in effect:

Lighten up Martha, there’s a better choice here.

Sure, the preparing and the serving is important.

But there’s a balance to be struck.

You’re not just a servant.

You’re my friend.

I didn’t come just to be served.

I’m here with you now to visit.

I’ve got things to tell you.

And I’d like for you to listen.

We should be enjoying each other’s company.

What I have to tell you can ease your anxieties.

You were made to be happy.

But you’re looking in the wrong places.

I can guide you to that fundamental happiness that lets you put everything in perspective.

Take a break from the preparation and service and busyness.

It can wait a little while.

There will be plenty of time for that later.

We live in a hyper-busy world today.

It takes some effort to balance our priorities.

Yes, there’s much work to do.

But not so much that we need to deprive ourselves of the better part.

So, let’s be sure to reserve “quality time” to spend with our families and friends.

And at least a little time, each day, to welcome our friend Jesus.

And to do some quality listening. 

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lk 10:38-42           Read this Scripture @usccb.org 

Scary Stuff

Scary stuff.

Judgment Day.

Jesus warns the people of his time and his place that judgment awaits them.

And that judgment will be harsh for those who failed to repent.

Failed to look at their lives and admit to the wrongs they had done.

Failed to feel any remorse for those wrongs.

Failed to feel any desire to alter course or make amends for those wrongs.

Chorazin and Bethsaida and Capernaum should have repented.

Jesus lived among them—they knew all about him.

They heard him preach; they witnessed his miracles.

They had been given much more than Tyre and Sidon and Sodom.

And to whom much is given, much is expected.

Much has also been given to Washington and Boston and Hartford and Covington.

And vast numbers of us throughout today’s world.

We know all about Jesus and his message.

His miracles, his Good News, his call for repentance.

So Jesus’ warning extends to us too.

At Mass, after the homily, we voice our prayers of the faithful; our petitions.

Sometimes we specifically pray for those who have not heard the Gospel.

And for those who have heard it but rejected it.

Is there hope for those people?

Certainly those who have never heard the Gospel can’t be punished for that.

But how about those who heard it and rejected it; who failed to repent?

Is there still hope for them?

I have hope for them.

Maybe there’s hope up to their very last moment.

We believe that there’s a particular judgment immediately after death.

When we alone face up to the life we’ve lived and learn of our eternal fate.

(Before the general judgment at the end of time.)

At least one theologian has speculated that we also get one final chance for repentance.

In the instant before death actually occurs.

That Jesus comes to those needing that last chance and offers them that opportunity.

That in his great mercy God gives us this final chance to accept salvation.

I like that.

That’s the hope I have for all those who might need it.

Can we count on that last chance?

No.

Nobody really knows the precise details on death and judgment.

But we can hope and pray that—somehow—

God does gather each one of us, from all the nations, into the peace of His Kingdom.

Tuesday of the 15th Week in Ordinary Time

Mt 11:20-24           Read this Scripture @usccb.org 

Penetential Rite:
You came to gather the nations into the peace of God’s Kingdom.
Lord have mercy.

You come to us in word and sacrament to strengthen us in holiness.
Christ have mercy.

You will come in glory with salvation for your people.
Lord have mercy.

United We Stand --- Divided We Fall

Today’s short Gospel passage seems to jump all over the place.

First, Jesus drives out a demon.

And the Pharisees say he did it by the power of the Prince of Demons.

Then Jesus has pity for the people and goes to all the towns and villages.

Teaching, proclaiming the Good News, and curing every disease and illness.

And finally, he tells us The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few.

It seems like a mishmash of three somewhat disjointed messages.

But for me, it immediately called to mind a front-page story from this Sunday’s Post.

A story of feeding hungry children in rural Tennessee—in Appalachia.

We spend billions of our federal tax dollars on school lunch programs.

And millions of our American children desperately need that free lunch.

For many, it’s their main meal of the day.

But in the summer, when school is out, there is no free lunch.

So we spend billions more on summer lunch programs.

The article focuses on a program that buses those lunches out to the kids.

A school bus that serves as a lunch wagon winds through the hills and hollows every day.

Kids wait at the small trailer parks and other community sites.

When the bus comes, they each get a bag lunch, and they eat it in the bus.

This ensures that the kids are the ones getting the food— and that each gets only one bag.

The article includes a lot of (online) pictures of the kids.

And some background details about the tough economy, the depressed area,

The lost jobs, and folks struggling to get by.

It shows some of the real people behind the statistics.

Child hunger in America may not rank among the world’s greatest tragedies.

But it is a tragic suffering.

And one we ought to be able to do something about.

Is the lunch bus a flagrant waste of taxpayer dollars?

Is the lunch bus an ideal solution?

Neither.

But kids need to keep eating while we all work together to find better solutions.

So, how does the lunch bus touch on the three messages of today’s Gospel?

Jesus’ heart was filled with pity.

And he went to all the villages to spread the Good News and cure the suffering.

We, through our dollars and our caring, send that bus to visit all the creeks and hollows.

Easing the suffering and carrying at least some implication of the Good News.

Jesus said The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few.

He was speaking primarily of harvesting souls.

And, indeed, we’re still called to that labor.

But those words also carry an additional, direct message for us in America today.

They aptly describe our food situation.

We have an abundance of food, and too few laboring to ensure that it’s distributed fairly.

That leaves the matter of driving out demons.

Matthew doesn’t mention it here, but Jesus did have a good answer to those Pharisees.

An answer that echoes through Appalachian Kentucky.

The motto of my native state.

United we stand—Divided we fall.

The Pharisees said Jesus drove out demons by the power of the Prince of Demons.

Jesus answered that that was crazy talk.

A kingdom divided against itself cannot stand.

Those words too, carry an additional, direct message for us in America today.

Tuesday of the 14th Week in Ordinary Time

Mt 9:32-38                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org 

                                                                                   Read the Washington Post Article

Calm

Matthew, Mark, Luke and Gene all wrote about Jesus calming the storm.

We heard Matthew’s account today.

Most of us have heard what Gene had to say too—that’s Gene MacLellan.

His 1971 hit song was recorded by many top stars including:

Elvis Presley, Joan Baez, Johnny Cash, Perry Como, Ocean, 

Loretta Lynn, Lynn Anderson and Anne Murray.

Put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the waters.

Put your hand in the hand of the man who calmed the sea.

Take a look at yourself and then you can look at others differently.

By puttin’ your hand in the hand of the man from Galilee.

When we take a look at the apostles

They don’t look too good.

How could they have so little faith?

Jesus criticized them a number of times for their puny faith.

He said that the centurion, a Roman, showed greater faith than he’d found in them.

He said their faith was smaller than a mustard seed.

The apostles knew Jesus personally.

They heard him teach with unprecedented wisdom and authority.

They were eye witnesses to his many healings and other miracles.

And yet they still questioned his power.

And wondered who he was.

How could they be so slow to get it?

When they were caught in a violent storm

They were terrified.

Even though their all-powerful friend was right there with them.

They had too little faith to see that his very presence with them

Was enough to save them from any true disaster.

But who are we to criticize the apostles for their little faith?

When we take a look at ourselves

We see that we’d better look at them differently.

Because we see that we’re just like them.

So often, when we’re caught in one of life’s violent storms

We lose focus on what this life is really all about.

We become just as terrified as the apostles were.

Even though our all-powerful friend is right there with us.

If we keep ourselves close at hand to Jesus

He’ll help us to keep our focus.

Then we can not only look at others differently.

But we can also look at storms differently.-

We just gotta put our hand in the hand of the man from Galilee.

Tuesday of the 13th Week in Ordinary Time

Mt 8:23-27                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org