Author: Fr. Scott Hurd

 

St. Matthew knew what it was like to feel excluded. Although he was Jewish, he was shunned by other Jews, because his work as a tax collector made him a collaborator with the hated Romans. Socially, he was an outsider, and outcast. His fellow countrymen wanted nothing to do with him.

We can only imagine that this exclusion filled him with loneliness and pain. Maybe that’s why, when Jesus said to him, “Follow me,” Matthew jumped at the chance. He wanted desperately to be welcomed and included. Which is precisely what Jesus does.

When Jesus dined at Matthew’s house later that day, Jesus was happy to sit and eat with more excluded people- other tax collectors and people identified only as “sinners.” Jesus welcomed them as well- something he does throughout the gospels, including the one that bears St. Matthew’s name.

Jesus invites everyone to be his disciple and enter his kingdom- regardless of race, ethnicity, nationality, gender, age, education, income or appearance. Jesus welcomes all people without exception, because all of us are sinners in need of redemption, and all of us are equally loved by God the Father.

Jesus challenges us today to be as welcoming and inclusive as he is. This may involve examining some of our actions and attitudes. For instance, do we harbor racist thoughts or tendencies? Do we look down on people we think are beneath us economically or socially? Do we envy or resent those we think are above us economically or socially? Do we see members of the opposite sex as equals? Do we scorn the young or marginalize the elderly? Are we intellectual snobs or athletes who mock non-jocks? Are we indifferent to the needs of persons with disabilities? Are we the pious who scorn the unbelieving or unrighteous? Do we ignore or avoid those who are different from us in some way?

If we answer “Yes” to any of these questions, it’s time for an attitude adjustment, so we can each do our part to bring about the vision St. Paul spoke of in our first reading: that we be one family, celebrating one faith, united in one Lord.

Readings for today’s Mass:http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/092111.cfm

 

Whenever I think of religion in Asia, Buddhism and Confucianism automatically spring to my mind. How surprised I was to learn that in South Korea today, a tiny fraction of the population is Confucian, 26% is Buddhist, and 26% is Christian- 10% of whom are Catholic. This means that Christianity is tied, numerically speaking, as the largest religion in that Asian nation. Which is remarkable, considering that Christianity was introduced there just over 200 years ago, and the first native-born priest was ordained only in 1846.

That priest was St. Andrew Kim Taegon, whose feast we celebrate today. But it’s not just his feast. We also honor St. Paul Chong Hasang, who was a lay catechist, and his companions, the 103 Korean martyrs of the 19th century, the vast majority of whom were lay people. Indeed, it was the laity who first introduced Catholicism to Korea. It was lay leaders who helped it flourish before the first priests arrived decades later. And Korean Catholicism continues to flourish with a strong and committed laity.

Today’s celebration gives us the opportunity to rejoice, be challenged, and make a commitment. We can rejoice in the Church’s growth amongst the Korean people; we (as clergy and clergy candidates) can be challenged by the fact that the Korean church’s strength has come largely from faithful lay people; and we can commit ourselves to build up the Church in our nation, that the fruits of the Spirit manifested in Korea, may be enjoyed in the United States.

Photo Credit: (statue of St. Andrew Kim): Wikipedia Commons

A few years back, I wrote a children’s poem about the Christmas story. As it took shape, I thought that my little poem wasn’t half bad. That’s when the temptation arose for me to switch my focus from writing it for the benefit of my family, to writing it so I could make some extra dough. In writing, I was using a gift God had given me, but with the wrong intention.

God gives to each of us special gifts, talents, and opportunities. They’re given so that we might serve God, bless our neighbors, and grow as people. In receiving them, the question we should ask is, “How can I use them to glorify God?” Sadly, in our materialistic culture, the question we typically ask is: “How can I use them to make some money?” That may be good capitalism, but it’s poor Christianity.

God wants us to use the gifts he gives us. That’s what Jesus meant when he said that we need to set our light on a lampstand instead of hiding it under a bushel. But, as Jesus continued, we let our light shine, not so that we might be able to see, but so that “those who enter may see the light.”

In other words, God’s gifts aren’t simply for our own benefit, but are for the benefit of others. They’re to be used primarily to help people, instead of helping our bottom line. They’re given that might be prophets, instead of seeking a profit.

Today’s gospel challenges us to see and use all of what God has given us, not to build up our bank accounts, but to build up the kingdom of God.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/091911.cfm

Photo Credit: epSos.de via Creative Commons

St. Robert Bellarmine’s parents had vastly different visions of what they wanted their son to be when he grew up. His father wanted him to become a wealthy politician. His mother, a devout woman and a niece of a pope, had other plans. She dreamed her son would become a Jesuit.

Guess who won? St. Robert did indeed become a Jesuit. Even more, he was appointed a cardinal and distinguished himself as one of the most influential theologians of late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, advising popes and engaging kings, Protestant leaders, and scientists in the pressing debates of his day. In honor of his work, he was named a Doctor of the Church.

But I wonder if things might have turned out differently, had St. Robert been born in 2011, instead of 1542? I wonder if his mother would have hoped he’d become a priest at all. Parents today are far less willing than they were in the past to encourage their sons to be priests, or their daughters to be sisters, in part because they fear that they would wind up being unhappy people. Scientific studies have shown, however, that on average, priests and sisters are among the happiest people in America, because, first and foremost, they understand themselves as servants of the Lord. Yet that’s an understanding that all of us can apply to ourselves, whether we’re priests or not, because we’re all called and created, in whatever we do, to be servants of God. As St. Robert himself said: “If you are wise, then know that you have been created for the glory of God and your eternal salvation. This is your good; this is the center of your life; this is the treasure of your heart.”

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/091711.cfm

Photo Credit: PeterJBellis via CreativeCommons

How did Mary show her feelings as she witnessed her Son’s Passion? Was she numb with shock? Did she try to be stoic and stifle her tears? Did she crumple in a heap and sob uncontrollably? Or did she express her anguish in all of these ways?

Scripture doesn’t answer these questions. However, if Mary is human, which she is, and if she loves her Son, which she does, then surely the Passion must have filled her with sorrow. It is this sorrow that we recall today, the memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows.

We recall especially that Mary suffered while Jesus suffered. When we suffer, Mary invites us to gaze at Jesus on the cross. Jesus, however, refers us back to Mary and says: “Behold your mother.” It’s as if he says, “Look at Mary; she’s your example; do as she did.” And what did Mary do? She stayed with Jesus at the foot of the cross. She didn’t run away. We can learn three things from this.

First, when we stay at the foot of the cross, we realize that we’re not alone in our suffering. We have a Lord who has suffered for us, and who suffers with us. This can be for us a source of consolation and strength.

Second, staying at the foot of the cross helps us to think not only about ourselves, something so easy to do when we suffer. By being at the cross, Mary was able to comfort her Son, in spite of her own pain. Her witness can teach us to be compassionate too.

Third, keeping the cross in sight reminds us that it was followed by an empty tomb- which is a cause for joy. As Mary learned, sorrow and joy can coexist, and sorrow will never have the final word. Through her witness, Our Lady of Sorrows embodies for us what Mother Teresa once wrote so beautifully: “Never let anything cause you so much sorrow that you forget the joy of Christ risen!”

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/091511.cfm

Photo Credit: Wikipedia Commons

Lamin Sanneh is a Gambian who teaches at Yale Divinty School. His grandfather and uncle are influential Muslim clerics, and Sanneh himself grew up a strict Muslim. He ultimately converted to Catholicism, however, primarily because of his fascination with the cross of Jesus. Specifically, Jesus’ crucifixion led him to conclude that suffering is not alien to God’s nature, as Islam teaches, but is at the heart of God’s compassion.

As Lamin Sanneh came to appreciate, we have a God who humbled himself on a cross, as today’s Scripture readings remind us, that we might have eternal life. This is why we need to exalt the cross. We need to lift it high and proclaim the good news it signifies for everyone to hear. It changed the life of Lamin Sanneh. It can change the world. And the world desperately needs to hear of the cross, especially during these days as we recall an anniversary of terror and violence.

Pope Benedict has said: “Precisely in this moment… we need the God who triumphs on the Cross, who wins not with violence but with his love. Precisely in this moment we need the face of Christ, to know the true face of God and thereby to carry reconciliation and light to this world.”

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/091411.cfm

Photo credit: Wikipedia Commons

A woman attending a retreat for those struggling to heal after an abortion was asked: “What do you want from this retreat?” She responded, “I want- for just a moment- to believe that God loves me.” This hurting person was living proof of the philosopher Kierkegaard’s claim that life is not a question of belief versus unbelief; it’s a question of belief versus despair.

Today’s gospel spoke of a Roman centurion who did indeed believe. We heard that he was generous, concerned for others, respected by his community, and an accomplished professional. Jesus knew all these things about him. But when Jesus publicly praised him, what did he single out? Only his faith which, we’re told, left Jesus “amazed.” We might say, then, that the centurion had “amazing faith.”

I imagine that everyone reading this blog has faith! Nevertheless, Jesus calls each one of us to have “amazing” faith. He wants us to have a deep and unshakable belief in him. Jesus wants us to believe that he answers prayer; to believe in his power to heal; to believe in his forgiveness; to believe that he keeps his promises; to believe that he has a purpose for our life; and most of all, to believe in his love for us.

Faith, of course, is a gift of God’s grace, which means that we can ask God to give it to us. So maybe our prayer this and every day should be for “amazing grace” that we might have “amazing faith.”

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/091211.cfm

Photo Credit: Hamner_Fotos via Creative Commons

As we’re all very aware, we’re observing a significant anniversary this Sunday: the 10th anniversary of 9/11. There’s understandably been a huge media focus on this event: in print, online, on the radio, and especially on TV. It’s very easy for us to get sucked in.

This happened to me after 9/11 itself. The media attention was 24/7, and like so many I was glued to the coverage for days on end. I spoke about this with a Catholic friend, when at one point in our conversation she asked: “When am I going to start praying?” She realized that she was so immersed in the news of that tragedy, that she’d neglected to lift it up to the Lord in prayer. Just like me.

Hopefully that won’t happen this year. Indeed, here we are in church, having come together to pray. And through our prayer, we can look back on those terrible events through the eyes of Christ. The media will look back on that day through all sorts of different eyes: survivors and soldiers; policemen and politicians; Manhattanites and Muslims. But in prayer, we can look upon it as a Christian.

When Jesus looks out upon our world, he loves what he sees. He can’t help but do that! Jesus is God, God is perfect love, and God can’t deny his own nature. Knowing this can help us to look out upon the world with love- for everything, and everyone. Including the events of 9/11- as hard as that may be.

Think of it this way: God the Father created the world through his Son, and when they were finished they looked upon it and exclaimed: “It is good.” Later, God the Son looked out upon that same world as he hung on a cross. And even in his pain, he looked out upon that world with love. He looked upon those who unjustly condemned him, and he loved them. He looked upon those who hurled scorn and contempt, and he loved them. He looked upon the empty ground where his friends should have been, and he still loved them. He looked upon those who had driven nails into his hands and feet, and not only did he love them, he forgave them for what they had done.

Can we look back upon 9/11 with love and forgive those responsible? Indeed, can we look back upon any painful event with forgiveness, especially toward those who have hurt us most deeply, and most personally? That is our Lord’s invitation to us; that is his challenge to us.

Our Lord spoke to us just moments ago through the gospel we heard. Peter asked: “How many times am I to forgive one who hurts me? Seven times?” “No,” Jesus will insist, “Seventy times seven times.” How are we to understand this? Are we to keep score for the times someone has hurt us? Is there to be a limit to our forgiveness, whether it be “three strikes and you’re out” or “seventy times seven strikes and you’re out?” Of course not. God doesn’t ration the forgiveness he showers upon us, and he doesn’t want us to ration the forgiveness we extend to others.

To grasp what Jesus meant, we need to appreciate that the number seven was associated with perfection, and therefore with God, because God is perfect. By teaching us to forgive seventy-seven times, Jesus is driving home the point that we’re to forgive like God forgives: without limit, without restriction, without compromise, without any strings attached. We can’t earn God’s forgiveness, and we shouldn’t expect others to have to earn it from us.

But how can we apply this to 9/11? How can Jesus’ words help us view that event through his eyes? To answer that, we should recall that forgiveness is a decision- it’s a choice to refrain from retaliation, revenge, or a desire to take an eye-for-an-eye. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., had some wise words on this score. “An eye for an eye,” he promised, “leaves everyone blind.”

Yet so many wanted to take an eye for an eye after 9/11. Referring to the terrorists, one politician announced: “God may have mercy on you, but we won’t!” That was anger speaking. And it’s normal to feel angry when hurt or attacked. But we can’t that anger harden into bitterness, resentment, or a thirst for revenge. Adding evil to evil is the devil’s work. To bring good out of evil is God’s work, and that’s where we come in. When we forgive, we bring an end to the cycle of violence and hate.

If such forgiveness doesn’t seem fair to us, we’re absolutely right! Forgiveness isn’t fair. An eye-for-an-eye is fair. Strict justice is fair. Through forgiveness, we temper justice with mercy. As has often been said, “Justice is getting what you deserve. Mercy is not getting what you deserve. Grace is getting what you don’t deserve.” By God’s free gift of grace, we’re able to not give to others what they justly deserve, through the mercy of forgiveness.

But does being forgiving people turn us into doormats or punching bags? Does it invite someone to hurt us over and over again? Does it encourage terrorists to strike again? Not at all. Forgiveness doesn’t preclude justice. Blessed Pope John Paul II forgave the gunman who tried to assassinate him. But that gunman remained in prison. Dangerous criminals can be forgiven, and kept off the street at the same time. Terrorists can be forgiven, while we still act to protect our nation, and defend the common good.

By forgiving them, however, we let go of the desire for revenge; by forgiving, we can view them and what they did, not through eyes of hate, but through eyes of love. Just as Jesus sees them- he who begs us to love our enemies. Indeed, it is they who are the very measure of our love. Dorothy Day put it well: “I really only love God, as much as I love the person I love the least.”

Photo Credit: Wikipedia Commons, fradaveccs, LivingOS via CreativeCommons

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/091111.cfm