Author: Msgr. Charles Pope

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God’s Cry to His People

Walk humbly with the Lord.

The first reading for Monday from the Book of the Prophet Micah sets forth an important teaching on what the Lord fundamentally requires of us, something that is essential for our good.

The Riv – In Hebrew, a “riv” is a kind of lawsuit. The Lord summons all creation to hear the charge He levels against His people. We who are the pinnacle of His creation in some way represent all of His creation and so must also answer before all of creation as to whether we have represented creation well.

Hear, O mountains, the plea of the LORD,
pay attention, O foundations of the earth!
For the LORD has a plea against his people,
and he enters into trial with Israel.

Allegorically, then, creation is presented as conscious and aware, as a kind of witness. Even if this is not literally the case, neither is it true that we are simply living inside some sort of machine. Creation is a revelation of God, of His glory, His law, and His order. As such, it witnesses to us through the natural law what is good or evil, and it manifests the will of the one who created it—and we are part of that creation.

God therefore turns the tables. What is a witness to us now becomes a witness to our living apart from what God expects. Whenever we violate the natural law, we experience its sentence. There is an old saying that God always forgives, and man sometimes forgives, but nature never forgives. So, it is not good when God calls nature to witness against us. It is better to fall into the hands of God!

The Reproach – The core of God’s reproach is that His people weary of Him. Their hearts are far from Him:

O my people, what have I done to you,
or how have I wearied you? Answer me!
For I brought you up from the land of Egypt,
from the place of slavery I released you;
and I sent before you Moses,
Aaron, and Miriam.

It would seem that they weary of their prayers and sacrifices and of being obedient. We who live in affluent but secular times should acknowledge that most us seldom acknowledge God; we seldom pray to Him or offer the sacrifice on Sunday morning or the sacrifice of an obedient faith. We who have been so blessed with abundance and comfort have collectively said through our actions that prayer, praise, and anything about God that might inconvenience us is wearisome.

God speaks to our heart and asks us to remember His blessings. He does not do this because He has a big ego and needs praise but because we need to keep our hearts close to Him. We must listen to Him and heed what he says. Otherwise, we block our future blessings as well as those of our descendants.

The Reaction – God’s people react with what can be interpreted either as scornful hyperbole or as a cry of desperation.

With what shall I come before the LORD,
and bow before God most high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams,
with myriad streams of oil?
Shall I give my first-born for my crime,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?

If the text is hyperbole, then it can be read to mean: “What? You want even more? Are the Temple sacrifices not enough? Must I multiply these wearisome things even more? Do you now seek even thousands of sheep, rivers of oils, my first-born, even me?”

This cry goes up today as religious practice seems burdensome to many: “You want even more of my time? Is there another Holy Day when I must go to Mass? Do you really want a tenth of my income? When will you stop asking me to think of the poor? Haven’t I done enough already? Rosaries, devotions, Lenten sacrifices, abstinence, regular confession—when is it ever enough?” Never mind that we devote far more time and money and make more sacrifices for things related to work, the American dream, and sporting events. An hour at Mass is a burden, but three or four hours watching football is a delight.

Another way to interpret ancient Israel’s reaction is to see it as a cry of desperation. Convicted of a wearisome heart, she admits her fault and despairs of ever being able to love the Lord wholeheartedly. Israel is weary, but in her weariness, she sees no strength to be rejuvenated and have her heart come alive again.

In our times, too, there are those who know of their sin and yet despair that they can change or do better. This amounts to a sin against hope and a lack of trust in God, who seeks not our ruin or depression, but our salvation and joy.

Both the despairing cry and the scornful hyperbole amount to a false absolute of what God seeks.

The Requirement – In the end, the Lord seeks the one thing He does not have: entrance to their hearts. God, who is all powerful, stands at the door of our hearts and knocks (see Rev. 3:20).

You have been told, O man, what is good,
and what the LORD requires of you:
Only to do the right and to love goodness,
and to walk humbly with your God.

It helps to reverse the order of these requirements to see how they are a work of grace. Thus, to be humble is realize that we need God; we need His wisdom, grace, and truth. Without these we cannot walk; we stumble and fall. With humility, though, we admit God into hearts and we walk with Him.

This in turn makes us love goodness, for when God enters our heart by His grace, we begin to love who and what God loves. Thus, our loving of goodness is not merely the stirring up of an emotion; it is a transformation by God’s grace, which comes when we humbly admit our need and allow Him entrance to our heart.

What we love, we do. So, as we love goodness we will do it, not because we have to but because we want to. This is the effect of God’s transforming grace.

In the end, the requirement is not thousands of fat lambs; it is our heart, humbly seeking Him. God “requires” it because He respects our freedom. It is required for us to open the door from the inside when God knocks.

So, in this passage God enters into a “riv” or legal case with us. In the end, though, it is the cry of a loving God to His beloved: “I sense your weariness. Where has your heart gone?” The beloved cries out in exasperation or despair, “What more do you want?” The Lord replies, “Nothing but you, nothing but you.”

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Four Teachings on Personal Prayer – A Homily for the 16th Sunday of the Year

The Gospel this Sunday speaks to us of the priority of personal prayer. In last week’s Gospel, Jesus sent the apostles out two by two to proclaim the Kingdom. Now they return, eager to report their progress and the graces they encountered.

As Jesus listens, He urges them (perhaps because they are so overjoyed) to come away and rest awhile, for they have labored long. In so doing, Jesus also teaches us about prayer. Let’s consider four teachings on prayer that are evident in today’s Gospel.

I. The Practice of Praise-Filled Prayer – As the text opens, the apostles are with Jesus, joyfully recounting all they experienced on their missionary journey. In a similar text in Luke (10:17), the apostles return rejoicing, saying that even demons are subject to them (through Jesus’ name). Thus, their first instinct is joyful gratitude before the Lord.

Is your prayer filled with praise and thanksgiving? Are you grateful to God for all He has done? Do you tell God what is happening in your life and give Him thanks for all He has enabled you to do?

Too many people think of prayer only in relation to petition, but praise is also an essential component. When Jesus began His instruction on prayer, He said, When you pray, say, ‘Our Father, who art in heaven hallowed be thy name’ (Mat 6:9). In other words, “Father, your name is holy. You are a great God, a wonderful God. You can do all things and I praise you! Thank you, Father; your name is holy, and you are holy.”

Praise the Lord. Thank Him for what He is doing and tell Him everything that you are experiencing. Scripture says that we were made for the praise of his glory (Eph. 1:16). So, praise the Lord in your prayer. How? Take a psalm of praise. Pray or sing the Gloria from Mass. Sing or recite a hymn. No matter how you do it, praise Him!

II. The Peace of Personal Prayer – Jesus invites the apostles to come away by themselves to a quiet place and rest for a while. Most people don’t think of their personal prayer as a privileged invitation from the Lord, nor do they think of it as rest.

Yet, consider that the Lord invites us to come aside and spend personal and private time with Him. Most people would relish personal attention from a famous person. Why not from the Lord? An old song says, “What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer.”

Note the description of this time as “rest.” Most people think of prayer more as a task than as a time of rest. Yet to pray is to rest, to withdraw from this world for a brief time and enjoy the Lord’s presence. Scripture says, For thus the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel, has said, “In repentance and rest you will be saved. In quietness and trust is your strength” (Is 30:15).

An old hymn says,

Sweet hour of prayer! Sweet hour of prayer!
That calls me from a world of care,
And bids me at my Father’s throne
Make all my wants and wishes known.
In seasons of distress and grief,
My soul has often found relief,
And oft escaped the tempter’s snare,
By thy return, sweet hour of prayer!

Learn to think of prayer as quiet time, as rest with the Lord, when He soothes, strengthens, refreshes, and blesses us.

III. The Primacy of Prioritized Prayer – The text says that people were coming in great numbers seeking the attention of the Lord and the apostles; they could not even get a moment to eat!

There is no doubt that the people had critical needs. They needed to be taught, healed, fed, and cared for in many ways. Yet despite this Jesus said, in effect, “We have to get away from all this for a while.” He directed the apostles to go off in the boat to a deserted place.

Indeed, one of the few places they could “get away” was out on the water. There, the crowds could not follow them, and they could be alone and quiet for a short time.

Jesus made prayer a priority. Scripture says of Him, But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed (Luke 5:16). Scripture also speaks of Him rising early to pray (Mark 1:35), praying late into the night (Matt 14:23), praying all night long (Luke 6:12), and praying in the mountains (Matt 14:23) and other deserted places.

Understanding prayer as rest helps us to understand why prayer must be a priority in our lives. If we are going to engage in the work to which God has called us, we need to be replenished and refreshed daily by spending time with Him.

If we were to engage in physical work without ever stopping to rest, we would collapse. The spiritual life has a similar law. Resting with God in prayer fills us with His presence, grace, and strength so that we can be equipped, empowered, and enabled unto the tasks that He has given us.

No one can give or share what he does not have, so if we aren’t praying and experiencing God’s presence, how can we share it? To share grace, we must first receive it. To speak the Word, we must first receive it. To witness to the Lord, we must first know Him.

Jesus often had to hide in order to pray. Sometimes the only quiet place He could find was out on the lake, but He did make time for prayer. He invites the apostles and us to do the same, not only despite the busyness of life, but because of it.

A Brief Story –

A priest friend of mine told me that back in the 1970s he once gave spiritual direction to a religious sister. At that time, it was common for people to say, “My work is my prayer.” When this priest inquired about the good sister’s prayer life she answered, “Oh, I’m too busy to pray, but that’s OK because my work is my prayer; that’s my spirituality.” He replied, “Sister, if you’re not praying, you don’t have a spirituality.” He got her to start praying for one hour a day. Some years later, he ran into her at the airport. By now, she had moved on to become a major superior in her order. “How are you doing, Mother?” he asked. “Oh,” she replied, “I am very busy!” He cringed, but then she added, “I’m so busy these days that I have to spend two hours a day praying!”

Now there’s a smart woman! When we’re being foolish we say, “I’m too busy to pray.” When we’re smart we say, “I’m so busy that I need to pray more.”

Jesus made prayer a priority. Prayer is the rest that strengthens us for the task; it is the refreshment that gives us new vigor and zeal.

IV. The Power of Pious Prayer – The text says that after Jesus spent this time alone with the apostles on the boat, they reached the other shore. Sure enough, the crowd was there waiting for them, but Jesus and the apostles had been refreshed and were now well-rested. Jesus, renewed and refreshed, saw the vast crowd and began to teach them at great length.

Prayer has that effect. In drawing close to God, who is love, we are better equipped to love others. Jesus, though He never lacked love for them, models this renewal for us. The text says that upon seeing the crowd, His heart was moved with pity for them. The Greek word translated as “pity” is σπλαγχνίζομαι (splagchnizomai), which means “to be moved with compassion.” The word “pity” often carries with it a condescending tone, but what happens here is that Jesus sees them, loves them, and has compassion for their state. The religious leaders in Jerusalem have largely abandoned them, considering them “the great unwashed,” but Jesus loves them and teaches them at great length.

It often takes many years and a lot of prayer to equip our hearts in this way. One of the signs that grace and prayer are having their effect is that our love for others, even for the multitudes, grows deeper, more compassionate, more patient, and more merciful. This takes great prayer and long hours of sitting at the Lord’s feet learning from Him.

Here is the power that prayer bestows: we are more fully equipped for our mission, more zealous, and more loving. The rest afforded by prayer rejuvenates our better nature and helps it to grow.

So, here are four teachings on prayer. Jesus found time to pray; He made it a priority. How about you?

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Straining Out Gnats but Swallowing Camels, as Seen in a Commercial

In the Gospel of Matthew (Mat 12:1-8), Jesus is rebuked for violating the Sabbath. This reminded me of the video below, which illustrates how we sometimes follow smaller rules while overlooking more important ones in the process.

The Lord Jesus was often scorned by the people of His day, who claimed that He overlooked certain details of the law (often Sabbath observances). But those who rebuked Him for this were guilty of far greater violations. For example,

  1. [Jesus] went into the synagogue, and a man with a shriveled hand was there. Some of them were looking for a reason to accuse Jesus, so they watched him closely to see if he would heal him on the Sabbath. Jesus said to the man with the shriveled hand, “Stand up in front of everyone.” Then Jesus asked them, “Which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?” But they remained silent. He looked around at them in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored. Then the Pharisees went out and began to plot with the Herodians how they might kill Jesus (Mk 3:1-6).
  2. Woe to you Pharisees, because you give God a tenth of your mint, rue and all other kinds of garden herbs, but you neglect justice and the love of God. You should have practiced the latter without leaving the former undone (Luke 11:42).
  3. Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue ruler said to the people, “There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.” The Lord answered him, “You hypocrites! Doesn’t each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water? Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?” (Lk 13:14-16)
  4. You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel. Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean (Matt 23:24-25).

Yes, they are straining out gnats but swallowing camels, maximizing the minimum but minimizing the maximum. Note that in the first passage above they are actually planning to kill Jesus for healing on the Sabbath!

Perhaps my all-time favorite illustration of this awful human tendency is in the Gospel of John:

Then the Jews led Jesus from Caiaphas to the palace of the Roman governor. By now it was early morning, and to avoid ceremonial uncleanness the Jews did not enter the palace; they wanted to be able to eat the Passover. So Pilate came out … (John 18:28-29).

They are plotting to kill a just and innocent man; indeed, they are plotting to kill God. They are acting out of wickedness, envy, jealousy, hatred, and murderous anger, but their primary concern is avoiding ritual uncleanliness! Yes, they are straining out gnats but swallowing camels.

We who are pious and observant need to be wary of this tendency. Sometimes in congratulating ourselves over adherence in lesser matters, we can either offend or neglect in weightier ones. Perhaps I attend Mass each Sunday (a grave obligation); perhaps I pray the rosary (a highly commendable practice); perhaps I tithe (a commendable precept). These are all things that ought to be done (one is commanded, one is commended, and one is a precept). But what if at the same time I am hateful toward someone at the office, unforgiving to a family member, and/or insensitive to the poor?

The danger could be that I let my observance of certain things allow me to think that I can “check off the God box” and figure that because I went to Mass, prayed the rosary, and gave an offering, I’ve “got this righteousness thing down.” Too often, very significant and serious things like love, mercy, forgiveness, and charity are set aside or neglected as I am busy congratulating myself over my adherence to other, sometimes lesser, things.

This oversight can happen in the other direction as well. Someone may congratulate himself for spending the day working in a soup kitchen, and think that he therefore has no need to look at the fact that he is living unchastely (shacked up, for example) or not attending Mass.

We cannot “buy God off,” doing certain things (usually things that we like) while ignoring others we’d rather not. In the end, the whole counsel of God is important.

We must avoid the sinful tendency to try to substitute or swap, to observe a few things while overlooking others.

We see a lot of examples of this in our culture as well. We obsess over people smoking because it might be bad for their health while ignoring the health consequences of promiscuous behavior, which spreads AIDS and countless venereal diseases and leads to abortion. We campaign to save the baby seals while over a thousand baby humans are killed each day in the United States. We deplore (rightfully) the death of thousands each year in gun homicides while calling the murder of hundreds of thousands of babies each year a constitutional right. The school nurse is required to obtain parental permission to dispense aspirin to students but not to provide the dangerous abortifacient “morning after pill.” We talk about the dignity of women and yet pornography flourishes. We fret endlessly about our weight and the physical appearance of our bodies, which will die, and care little for our souls, which will live. We obsess over carbon footprints while flying on jets to global warming conferences at luxurious convention center complexes.

Yes, we are straining gnats but swallowing camels. As the Lord says, we ought not to neglect smaller things wholly, but simply observing lesser things doesn’t give us the right to ignore greater ones.

Salus animarum suprema lex. (The salvation of souls is the highest law.) While little things mean a lot, we must always remember not to allow them to eclipse greater things.

The ideal for which to aim is an integrated state in which the lesser serves the greater and is subsumed into it. St. Augustine rightly observed,

Quod Minimum, minimum est, Sed in minimo fidelem esse, magnum est (St. Augustine – De Doctrina Christiana, IV,35).

(What is a little thing, is (just) a little thing, but to be faithful in a little thing is a great thing.)

Notice that the lesser things are in service of the greater thing—in this case fidelity. And thus we should rightly ask whether some of the lesser things we do are really in service of the greater things like justice, love, mercy, fidelity, kindness, and generosity. Otherwise we run the risk of straining out gnats but swallowing camels.

Enjoy this commercial, which illustrates how one rule (no loud voices in the library) is observed while violating nearly every other.

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Recovering Reverence for the Lord

We live in times when many trivialize God or at least reduce Him to someone who can be managed and understood. God the Father has become more of a grandfather or a philosopher king than the Ancient of Days, dwelling in unapproachable light, surrounded in angelic praise and with fire going out before Him. Similarly, the Holy Spirit is just a quiet dove or a gentle force rather than the rushing wind and tongues of fire that stirred the early Church. Finally, Jesus is reduced to the laid back, harmless hippie talking about flowers and birds, or some social reformer who just “cares” for people rather one who challenges them and insists they accept His truths.

Even before His resurrection and ascension, Jesus was no pushover to those who really encountered Him: demons trembled before Him, religious leaders feared Him with an almost apoplectic reaction, people fell to their knees in front of Him, and His own apostles were described by Mark as amazed and afraid (Mk 10:32). Jesus’ words and answers left the crowds spellbound and even His enemies were afraid to ask Him any more questions.

The reworked Jesus of our dainty times bears little resemblance to the Jesus of Scripture, even before His glorification in the resurrection and ascension; after His ascension Jesus’ glory is beyond description. Even John, who likely knew His gentleness better than anyone, fell to his feet when he encountered the glorified Christ of Heaven:

On the Lord’s day I was in the Spirit, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet, saying, “Write in a scroll what you see and send it to the seven churches: to Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia, and Laodicea.” Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking with me. And having turned, I saw seven golden lampstands, and among the lampstands was One like the Son of Man, dressed in a long robe, with a golden sash around His chest. The hair of His head was white like wool, as white as snow, and His eyes were like a blazing fire. His feet were like polished bronze refined in a furnace, and His voice was like the roar of many waters. He held in His right hand seven stars, and a sharp double-edged sword came from His mouth. His face was like the sun shining at its brightest. When I saw Him, I fell at His feet like a dead man (Rev 1:10-17).

Jesus seeks to reassure John, but He does not do so by offering him the ancient equivalent of a “high five.” Rather, He speaks out of His glory and to the assurance and obedience that glory should inspire:

But He placed His right hand on me and said, “Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last, the Living One. I was dead, and behold, now I am alive forever and ever! And I hold the keys of Death and of Hades. Therefore, write down the things you have seen, and the things that are, and the things that will happen after this (Rev. 1:18-19).

For all of us, a balance must be found between a cringing fear and the widespread trivializing of the Lord that has taken place in our times. Jesus is the ruler of the Kings of this earth, the Great I AM, and Lord of all, and he loves us and has died for us. All of this should inspire a deep love for him and a reverential spirit that is both docile and grateful.

In his book Humility Rules, Fr. Augustine Wetta, O.S.B. writes,

I was visiting a church not long ago when I noticed a boy in line for Communion wearing a t-shirt that read “Jesus is my homeboy.” I guess I can see how that might help … when it comes to rediscovering one’s dignity as a brother of Christ; but remember, Jesus is also our King. If you don’t find his divine power a little intimidating, there is probably something wrong with you. … We should not be in the habit of thinking that Jesus would be grateful for our friendship. We should love him, but we should also be in awe of him. Don’t get me wrong, our ultimate objective is to discover the perfect love that “casts out all fear” (1 John 4:18), but be careful you don’t wind up sliding into a comfortable familiarity that drives out all respect … fear and love must go together (Humility Rules, pp 32-34).

Amen!

Liturgically in the last fifty years we have also reflected and reinforced a casual and overly familiar relationship with God. People used to dress up for church, keep a reverent silence prior to Mass, and be more serious about the state of their soul before approaching Holy Communion. Today, much of this is gone. Today many people dress casually at Mass, barely reflect on their worthiness to receive Communion, and seem more focused on the human dimension of the liturgy. Beginning in the 1960s the emphasis was on the Mass as a meal and so it should look and be like one. Thus, altars were turned around and made to look like tables (frankly not nearly as nice as my mother’s dining room table), and sacrificial language was lost. It also seemed a rather casual meal at that. The chalices were gone, replaced by pottery and ceramic vessels; the hosts got bigger and more “pita-like.”

Much of this was based on a mistaken notion that the Mass is a representation or reenactment of the Last Supper—it is not. It is the making present of the passion, death, and resurrection of Christ. Even at the Last Supper, Christ pointed beyond it, to the cross and resurrection. And even if the Last Supper is recalled, we ought to remember that the Passover meal (the context for the Last Supper) was no casual affair. Only the best was used; formality and ancient customs prevailed for this night that was different from every other night.

Slowly we are (and must continue) regaining in the liturgy an appropriate formality that reflects the respect and reverence we should have for the Lord. Dennis McNamara, in his book Catholic Church Architecture and the Spirit of the Liturgy, reminds us,

Liturgical imagery must rise above both the saccharine, porcelain-doll portraits of the 19th century holy cards and the hyper-realistic and overly optimistic imagery of Christ as a chummy first century Mediterranean blessing our children [and hugging us on judgment day] ….

The Liturgical Christ is Sovereign Mediator between God and man, the eternal High Priest, the divine Teacher, the judge of the living and the dead, caught up into the light of eternity, and [beyond] time and space. The Liturgical Christ cannot be domesticated (p. 75).

Yes, He is the great High Priest, judge of the world, and the Lord who is to come. He enters our assembly and walks the aisle as we sing a hymn of praise to Him. He teaches in the liturgy with authority and we stand in respect as His Gospel is announced. He dons priestly robes and enters on our behalf into the Holy of Holies in Heaven and we rightly fall to our knees. Scripture says, Let all the angels of God worship him (Heb 1:6). Scripture also asks, [T]o which of the angels did God ever say, “You are my Son, this day I have begotten you”? (Heb 1:5)

There is too little of this appreciation in our modern liturgies. I do not claim that the only remedy is to use more ancient forms. There are modern forms that can and do capture the glory of God. Gospel music, for example, emphasizes a high Christology and a Christ who can do anything but fail, who can make a way out of no way, and of whose goodness “I cannot tell it all.” A modern Christian song by Hillsong speaks of the Lord as King over the storm, in whom I will be still and know that He is God. The more ancient forms have much to teach us as well, for they strongly emphasize the otherness of God and a reverential stance and silence before Him. He is above the latest trends and ephemeral issues.

To a domesticated notion of God, I can only cry, “May reverence, wonder, and awe be a gift to us in abundance!”

To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood and made us a kingdom, priests to his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him, and all tribes of the earth will wail on account of him. Even so. Amen (Rev 1:5-7).

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A Brief Reflection on Mortal Sin

The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches,

[M]ortal sin destroys charity in the heart of man by a grave violation of God’s law; it turns man away from God, who is his ultimate end and his beatitude, by preferring an inferior good to him. In mortal sin the will sets itself upon something that is of its nature incompatible with the charity that orients man toward his ultimate end. As such, the sin is mortal by its very object whether it contradicts the love of God, such as blasphemy or perjury, or the love of neighbor, such as homicide or adultery (Catechism of the Catholic Church # 1855-1856).

Many people today scoff at the idea that mortal sin is a turning away from God. They doubt that people directly intend to turn away from God, as if the fornicator or the murder or the thief would say, “I hate God and so I am going to turn away from Him by sinning.”

That is not what catechism says, however. Rather, it says that our preference for an inferior good to God by a grave violation of His law is what turns us away from Him.

It says that in mortal sin we set our will upon something we know to be incompatible with our ultimate end. Although our first thought may not be that we are rejecting God, we set our will on something incompatible with God. In so doing, we are preferring something or someone to God.

This poisons our heart if we do not repent because we feed a desire in our heart for what is not God and we starve our heart from Him and what He offers. Soon enough we prefer the darkness to the light. We prefer the trinkets of this world to God and come to regard Him as a thief who comes to take what we want and keeps us from doing what we want to do. God becomes our enemy.

If we die in this state, the warmth of God and Heaven seem overwhelming, wrathful, and like a consuming fire. We cannot endure and so we turn away finally and permanently to a place that we strangely prefer, but which is hellacious because it is not that for which we were made. It lacks the one thing necessary: God.

And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the Light and does not come into the Light (John 3:19-20).

In mortal sin it is not that we directly turn from God — at least not at first — but that we turn to the lesser things of the darkness and come to hate Him who is the Light.

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The Pruning of the Church and Our Response to It

As we go through the Book of the Prophet Isaiah at Mass this week, we read of Israel’s painful purifications as well as the subsequent punishment of the surrounding nations.

God permitted the nations to persecute Israel in order that she be purified, but the iniquity and sin of the nations and of this world cannot go on forever; wickedness must be ended. The Lord did not just purify Israel, He will also judge the nations.

In a complex passage, God says (through Isaiah) that although He had used Assyria as a tool to purify Israel, Assyria would not escape punishment for her iniquity. Here is an excerpt:

Woe to Assyria! My rod in anger, my staff in wrath. Against an impious nation [Israel] I send him, and against a people under my wrath I order him to seize plunder, carry off loot …. But this is not what he intends, nor does he have this in mind; Rather, it is in his heart to destroy …. [And] he says: “By my own power I have done it, and by my wisdom, for I am shrewd. I have moved the boundaries of peoples ….” Will the axe boast against him who hews with it? Will the saw exalt itself above him who wields it? As if a rod could sway him who lifts it …. Therefore, the Lord, the LORD of hosts, will send among his fat ones leanness, and instead of his glory there will be kindling like the kindling of fire (Isaiah 10:5-16).

Although God wielded Assyria like an axe to prune Israel, that did not make the axe good. The axe must be refined as in fire.

What do stories like these have to say to us today? Quite a bit, especially if we interpret Israel as an image for the Church and the nations around us today as akin to Assyria and Babylon.

The Church has been going through a great pruning and purification in the past fifty years. The once luxuriant vine of Catholicism and Christendom in the West has been reduced. Only about a quarter of Catholics in the U.S. attend Mass; in Europe the numbers are far worse. Indifference to the faith and to God is widespread. Many are Catholic in name only.

Yet for those who remain there is an increasingly fervent experience of the faith. On account of doubt and persecution, many of us are clearer about what we believe and why than we were in the past. There has been a great blossoming of Catholic media and Catholic apologetics. The Catholics who remain are more devout and more creative. In this we see a pruning and purification that is so often necessary in the Church. Ecclesia semper reformanda (the Church is always in need of reform).

This purification is being effected by God, who is permitting an increasingly secular and hostile world to afflict the Church. This can take many forms: indifference to religious teaching; scoffing at religious beliefs; promulgation of error and lies in order to lead people away from the faith; marginalizing the role of faith-based organizations in charity, adoption, and foster care; excoriating and even criminalizing religious beliefs; and even outright martyring of believers. A few recent court cases that sought to criminalize religious views have gone well for believers, but the legal actions grow ever more numerous.

For the time being, God seems to be permitting the “Assyria” of modern, decadent culture to afflict us. Things do by opposition grow, however. Even if God is wielding the axe of modernity now, this does not make the axe holy; soon enough the axe will have to answer for its wickedness.

What are faithful Catholics to do under the current circumstances? The answer to this may vary based upon our state/stage in life (e.g., parent, priest, married, single, young, old). Many younger families are choosing to “hunker down” and live as isolated from our toxic culture as possible by homeschooling, restricting television viewing, and/or limiting Internet access. Others have chosen to engage the culture boldly in order to seek its conversion and to rescue as many as possible from its grip.

Another text from Isaiah seems appropriate for an increasing number of Catholics, especially those with children:

Come, my people, enter your chambers, and shut your doors behind you; hide yourselves for a little while until the wrath has passed by. For behold, the LORD is coming out from his place to punish the inhabitants of the earth for their iniquity, and the earth will disclose the blood shed on it and will no more cover its slain (Is 26:21-22).

In effect, this text advises the faithful to preserve the faith by seeking to live as far apart from the prevailing culture as possible. Israel’s purification was bearing fruit and God was preparing to punish the nations that afflicted His faithful there.

As in the days of Noah, some choose to hunker down and preserve the faith from the flood of rebellion.

This of course is not the usual stance of the Church, which ordinarily is to be zealously evangelical, but even the first evangelists were told by Jesus that in the face of fierce opposition to the gospel they were to flee: When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another (Matt 10:24). There are times to hole up in the enclosure of the ark in order to preserve the life and light of the gospel and then emerge again when the storms of destruction have passed by.

What does all of this mean to you? You must decide how to respond. Some may be called to isolate their families in order to preserve them from the caustic culture. Others may be called to engage with this world and seek to save as many as possible. Increasingly, the Church is simply not going to be able to make the compromises that the world demands of her.

Isaiah’s prophecies are not merely locked in the past; they are operative now as well.

In the video below, Bishop Robert Barron does a wonderful job of giving hope in the midst of affliction. Describing the stance of hunkering down, he reminds us that for those who do so it is a stance that is less one of hiding than of preserving the faith so that it can be set loose later with its purity intact.

https://youtu.be/9hcl4x2283E

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The Call to Integrity in Worship

The first reading for Monday of the 15th week of the year is provocative, especially for those of us who hold the Liturgy in high esteem, as well we should. However, it is possible for us to distort even great things like the Mass and the sacraments.

Let’s look at the reading and then draw a few teachings from it:

Hear the word of the Lord, princes of Sodom! Listen to the instruction of our God, people of Gomorrah! What care I for the number of your sacrifices? says the Lord. I have had enough of whole-burnt rams and fat of fatlings; in the blood of calves, lambs and goats I find no pleasure. When you come in to visit me, who asks these things of you? Trample my courts no more! Bring no more worthless offerings; your incense is loathsome to me. New moon and sabbath, calling of assemblies, octaves with wickedness: these I cannot bear. Your new moons and festivals I detest; they weigh me down, I tire of the load. When you spread out your hands, I close my eyes to you; Though you pray the more, I will not listen. Your hands are full of blood! Wash yourselves clean! Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil; learn to do good. Make justice your aim: redress the wronged, hear the orphan’s plea, defend the widow (Is 1:10-19).

Our worship can lack integrity. That which is supposed to glorify God and bring forth in us a holy obedience can become lip service. God seeks hearts that are humble, docile, loving, and repentant. We cannot satisfy Him just by singing a few hymns, saying some prayers, or attending Mass. These things, good though they are, are meant to bring about a conversion in us that makes us more loving of both God and neighbor, less violent, more just, more merciful, more generous, and more holy. Our worship should effect change in us such that we cease doing evil, learn to do good, strive for justice, address injustice, and defend and help the poor, the unborn, the elderly, the dying, and the helpless.

An additional problem with our worship today is that God has become almost an afterthought. Much of our liturgy is self-centered, self-congratulatory, and anthropocentric (rather than theocentric). We are “the aware, gathered community celebrating itself.” While the Mass should focus on God and summon us to humility and joy before Him, too often it seems more an exercise in self-congratulation. We are very narcissistic, even in a communal setting.

God cannot be pleased with all of this. Even if our worship is rightly ordered, we are not going to buy Him off that easily. God wants an obedient heart more than sacrifice. Sacrifice without obedience is a sham.

We need God to restore our integrity and give us a new heart. We are “dis-integrated,” in the sense that pieces of our life that should be together (e.g., worship and obedience, liturgy and healing) are not. Too often our worship does just the opposite of what it should. Instead of drawing us more deeply into the love and obedience of God, it becomes the very occasion of keeping Him at a distance and seeking to placate Him with superficial gestures. This makes our worship a lie and an insult to Him. God doesn’t mince words in the passage above when He says how displeased He is.

We need God to give us a new heart, one that loves Him as well as the people and things that He loves. Only then will our worship will truly reflect the heart that God seeks: a loving, humble, and generous one.

May our worship give us a new heart and deepen our commitment to God and neighbor!

https://youtu.be/ZDqRheBu2cg

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The Difference Between Penance and Punishment

There is an old rabbinic story that speaks to the danger of being “unbroken.” It also illustrates the difference between penance and punishment. I am relating this story from memory and may have adapted it somewhat over the years, so if you know it in a different way, please be merciful! Here is (my version of) the story:

There once was a man who had violated the Sabbath against his will, because his carriage had broken down. Although he ran, striving to reach town before sundown, he was not able to do so. He arrived substantially after sundown, thus violating the ban on work by travelling farther than allowed on the Sabbath, which requires rest.

The young rabbi of the town, Rabbi Mikhal imposed a long and harsh penance on the man, so harsh that it affected his health. The man felt quite incapable of fulfilling it and despaired he would ever be free of his sin.

Hearing that the famed Rabbi Baal Shem Tov was visiting nearby the man sought his advice. The older rabbi replaced the severe penance given by the young Rabbi Mikhal, telling the man, “Carry a pound of candles to the house of prayer and have them lit for the Sabbath. Let that be your penance.” Surprised at the mildness of the penance, the man expressed disbelief. The old Shem Tov simply repeated, “Do as I say, that will be enough.” He then added, “Greet Rabbi Mikhal for me and extend my request that he join me at Chvostov where I will hold the coming Sabbath.”

Honored by the invitation Rabbi Mikhal made haste to Chvostov, but along the way a wheel broke on his carriage and he had to continue on foot. Though he hastened to arrive on time, even his youthful stamina could not overcome the distance, and he arrived well after dark on the Sabbath.

Entering the dwelling of Baal Shem Tov he stood numb and speechless, realizing the old Rabbi was well into the Sabbath prayers. Shem Tov looked up and spoke to him: “Good Sabbath, my sinless friend. You had never tasted the sorrow of the sinner, your heart had never throbbed with his despair—and so it was easy for your hand to deal out severe penance.”

The first lesson of the story is clear: Our mercy for others is often conditioned by our experience of our own need for mercy. Having experienced our own brokenness and inability to do what is right on every occasion, our longing for mercy is deepened and the greatness of the gift is more fully appreciated. This equips us to show mercy to others.

To be “broken” is a modern expression but it expresses an ancient truth. It speaks to the experience we have when we are finally confronted with our own sin or inadequacy, most often in a profound way. Perhaps we did something particularly humiliating or discouraging. It may even be publicly known. Perhaps we did something that had harmful effects on people we love or even on strangers. Perhaps we experienced a profound failure in an endeavor, a relationship, or a business matter. We may find ourselves in the awkward position of needing help from others or of needing forgiveness from them and God.

Things like this can feel crushing but can also be salutary. They are helpful if we see them through by seeking forgiveness, making amends where necessary, and finding help and healing. Above all, experiences like this can be salutary if they help us to realize that we are not invincible, flawless, or somehow less in need of grace and mercy.

People who are unbroken—like the young rabbi in the story—can easily be too severe, lack compassion, and be unforgiving. They are often poorly equipped to deal with people who struggle, especially those who struggle openly and in certain ways. Scripture says,

The sins of some men are obvious, going ahead of them to judgment; but the sins of others do not surface until later (1 Tim 5:24-25).

In other words, all of us need mercy, whether for obvious sins or more hidden ones, whether now or later. We do well to recognize this early in life, for Scripture warns,

For judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment (James 2:13).

Yes, woe to the unbroken person who too easily imposes harsh punishments on others. It is a terrible strategy in life and leads to a day of judgment that will be hard to withstand.

Many years ago, when I was just about to be ordained a priest, my spiritual director said to me, “I pray that God will break your heart.” I remember being annoyed at what seemed a cruel prayer on the eve of my ordination.

Looking back, though, I understand what he meant. He detected a pride and a harshness in my spirit. At that point in my life I had spent five years studying the faith. I knew what was right, and by gosh it was time to unleash all this knowledge on a confused people who had been misled by weak clergy and faulty catechesis. Although I was intellectually aware that I was a sinner and imperfect, I was not experientially aware enough of this.

In my mid-thirties I experienced a failure in my first assignment as a pastor. I was embarrassed both publicly and personally. I felt broken. Looking back, I can truly say, “Glory Hallelujah!” We all need to be broken at some point. Everything needs a crack in it; that’s how the light gets in.

It is not wrong to know what is good and what is evil. It is not wrong to preach the truth with zeal and love. But an essential truth of the gospel is that God is rich in mercy, because we all fall short on our way to glory and perfection.

A second lesson from the story above is about the difference between penance and punishment. A penance is an act or devotion performed to show sorrow or repentance for sin. It is rooted in the Latin word paenitentia, which refers to sorrow or repentance for sin. The Latin root word is paene, meaning “nearly” or “almost.” Thus, paenitentia (to be penitent) means to have knowledge and sorrow that one has come up short or missed the mark somehow. A penance is a way to acknowledge a shortcoming and express sorrow for it; it is not so much a way to make up for sin and surely is not a way to purchase mercy. In the story above, the man was penitent. He acknowledged that he had fallen short. He did not arrogantly declare that there was nothing wrong with what he did even if some aspects were beyond his control. His sorrow did not need to be elicited; it was already present. Correction was not needed; he already knew that violating the Sabbath was wrong.

Punishment, on the other hand, is designed to cause some degree of pain or suffering in order to teach that something is wrong and/or elicit contrition, even if imperfect. Ideally punishment is used to teach the person by allowing him to experience the consequences of wrongdoing in a smaller way, so that he does not experience more dire consequences later.

In the story, the young rabbi used punishment where only penance was likely needed.

This is an important distinction for the Sacrament of Confession (sometimes called the Sacrament of Penance). The usual context of the celebration of this sacrament is that the person already feels sorrow and knows that what he has done is wrong. In such cases, the priest does not issue a punishment. Rather, he assigns a penance, usually a rather small or token act or prayer that signifies repentance or sorrow. While there is often some adjustment for serious sins, a penance in no way purchases forgiveness or perfectly outweighs the sin committed. Instead, it is a sign of sorrow and of our desire to do better in the future. The purpose of a penance is not to punish the penitent, who almost never needs that. The very fact that he is in the confessional usually illustrates that he acknowledges his sin and has sorrow over it. Only rarely does a priest need to be stern, if he discovers an impenitent attitude or an incomplete sorrow that might even seek to justify sin. Thus, penances, not punishments are issued in confession.

It is interesting what an ancient story about two rabbis can teach!

King David wrote the following psalm on mercy at a low point in his life: