Most of us struggle with the fact that God allows bad things to happen to us. Why does He not intervene more often to protect us from attacks of various kinds and from events that cause sadness, setbacks, or suffering?
While mysterious, the clearest answer is that God allows suffering in order that some greater blessing may occur. To some degree I have found this to be so; some of my greatest blessings required that a door slam shut for me or that I endure some suffering. If my college sweetheart had not ended things, I would most likely not have the very great blessing of being a priest today. Had I gotten some of my preferred assignments in my early years as a priest, I would not have been enriched by the assignments I did have. Those difficult assignments have drawn me out and helped me to grow far more than the cozy, familiar placements I desired would have. Had I not entered into the crucible of depression and anxiety in my thirties, I would not have learned to trust God as much as I do, and I would not have learned important lessons about myself and about life.
So despite that fact that we understandably fear suffering and dislike it, for reasons of His own (reasons He knows best), God does allow some degree of it in our lives.
Yet I wonder if we really consider often enough the countless times God did step in to prevent disaster in our lives. We tend to focus on the negative things in life and overlook the enormous number of blessings we often take for granted: every beat of our heart, the proper functioning of every cell in our body, and all of the perfect balances that exist in nature and the cosmos in order to sustain us.
Just think of the simple act of walking, all of the possible missteps we might take but most often do not. Think of all the foolish risks we have taken in our lives—especially when we were young—that did not end in disaster. Think of all the poor choices we have made and yet escaped the worst possible outcomes.
Yes, we wonder why we and others suffer and why God allows it, but do we ever wonder why we don’t suffer? Do we ever think about why and how we have escaped enduring the consequences of some awfully foolish things we have done? In typical human fashion, we minimize our many, many blessings, and magnify and resent our sufferings.
I have a favorite expression, one that I have made my own over the years, that I use in response to people who ask me how I am doing: “I’m pretty well blessed, for a sinner.” I’ve heard others put the same sentiment this way: “I’m more blessed than I deserve.” Yes, we are all pretty well blessed indeed!
I thought of all those things as I watched the commercial below (aired during the 2014 Super Bowl). While it speaks of the watchfulness of a father, it makes me think of my guardian angel, who has surely preserved me from many disasters.
As you watch the commercial, don’t forget to thank God for the many times He has rescued you through the intervention of your guardian angel. Thank Him too for His hidden blessings—blessings that, though you know nothing of them, are bestowed by Him all the same. Finally, think of the wonderful mercy He has often shown in protecting you from the worst of your foolishness.
One of Jesus’ most central qualities was that He loved His Heavenly Father and was loved by Him. To put it colloquially, Jesus was crazy about His Father. He was always talking about Him. Jesus often sought remote places in order to be able to spend extended time with His Father. Clearly He also knew and experienced His Father’s great love for Him.
Indeed, Jesus’ public ministry began with this declaration of the Father: You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased” (Mk 1:11; Lk 3:22). Clearly, the Father loves and takes great delight in His Son, Jesus. While we ought not to project our own needs and wounds (such as the “father wound”) into Jesus’ human nature — as if He desperately needed the affirmation of the Father — it seems clear that one of the greatest joys of Jesus’ life was the Father’s love for Him. It supported Him and encouraged Him. It was the foundation, the center, of His identity. Jesus is the beloved Son of the Father.
At one point the disciples, who had admired the powerful love and prayer of Jesus for His Father, asked that He teach them how to pray. Jesus began, “When you pray, say, ‘Father’” (Lk 11:2). He was overheard in the Garden of Gethsemane to say, Abba! Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will (Mk 14:36). Yes, Jesus loved His Father and experienced great love from Him.
We have few in the way of lengthy descriptions of Jesus’ prayer, but it would seem that words were seldom needed between Him and His Father. It was Cor ad Cor loquitur (heart speaking to heart); it was what words could never describe nor lips utter.
It is especially in John’s Gospel that we get glimpses of Jesus’ experience with the Father. Jesus discloses His experience of the Father through brief aspirations, attestations, and in his High Priestly prayer. We see a deep relationship of Jesus with His Father that is one of love, trust, confidence, and an unfailing expectation of vindication from the Father. In Jesus there is a joyful obedience and an experience that He is never alone:
I am not alone. I stand with the Father, who sent me (Jn 8:16).
He who sent me is trustworthy, and what I have heard from him I tell the world. … The one who sent me is with me; he has not left me alone … I always do what pleases him (Jn 8:26, 28-29).
I am telling you what I have seen in the Father’s presence (Jn 8:38).
I honor my Father, but you dishonor me. … My Father, whom you claim as your God, is the one who glorifies me. Though you do not know him, I know him. If I said I did not, I would be a liar like you, but I do know him and obey his word (Jn 8:49, 54-55).
Father, … I know that you always hear me (Jn 11:41-42).
I do exactly what the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father. Get up, let us go on from here [to the cross] (Jn 14:31).
As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you (Jn 15:9).
Father, the hour has come. Glorify your Son … glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world began. … Then the world will know that you sent me and that I have loved them even as you have loved me. … Father you loved me before the creation of the world. … Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you (John 17: selected verses).
Even though on the cross Jesus cried, “My God, My God why have you forsaken me?” (Ps 22:1), we must recall that this psalm is one of hope, not despair. Among its laments come verses of confidence and trust:
Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast. From birth I was cast on you; from my mother’s womb you have been my God. …
… But you, Lord, do not be far from me. You are my strength; come quickly to help me. Deliver me from the sword, my precious life from the power of the dogs. Rescue me from the mouth of the lions; save me from the horns of the wild oxen.
And I will declare your name to my people; in the assembly I will praise you. You who fear the Lord, praise him! All you descendants of Jacob, honor him! Revere him, all you descendants of Israel! For he has not despised or scorned the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help. From you comes the theme of my praise in the great assembly; before those who fear you I will fulfill my vows.
Yes, even on the cross there is trust and confidence in the Father’s love; there is a firm conviction that this love will vindicate and rescue. There is also Jesus’ loving willingness to fulfill his vows to God before the people, even if it brings suffering and scorn.
Thus, the Father’s love is greater than any other force in Jesus’ life. It is His foundation, His joy, and His sure defense. If He but has the Father’s love, He has all and conquers all.
What of you and me? Do you experience the Father’s love for you as the foundation of your life and your deepest strength? For too many, the Father seems distant, perhaps even angry. Jesus’ deepest work in your life is to bring you into the heart of the Father so that you will not just know, but experience that the Father loves you; He even likes you! The Father loves you and there’s really nothing you can do about it. You are His beloved!
While we are not sinless, as was Jesus, the Father does not cease loving us. It is His very love and the experience of that love that will drive out sin and usher in holiness. If you love me, you will keep my Commandments (Jn 14:15).
Jesus would have you turn now and see across the distant field that the Father is running toward you (Luke 15:20). He would have you hear him pleading for you to enter the feast (Luke 15:28). If you take one step toward Him, God the Father will take two steps toward you and then come running.
Let the Father’s love be the foundation of your life. As it was for Jesus perfectly, may it be so for us with increasing perfection.
Among the losses in our declining culture is that of “common” or shared spaces and events. In these situations, Americans could come together and enjoy some degree of unity and common purpose. Usually they involved diversions like sports, movies, or other entertaining and uniting activities. Whatever political, religious, or cultural differences, Americans could set aside their differences and enjoy something together.
Sporting events, amateur and professional (e.g., local high school football games, March Madness, the Super Bowl, the World Series)
Blockbuster movies or television shows (e.g., Jaws, the final episode of M*A*S*H)
Awards ceremonies (e.g., the Oscars, the Emmys, the Grammys)
Amusement parks (e.g., Disneyland, Epcot Center, Six Flags)
Parades (e.g., St. Patrick’s Day, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving Day)
These were times when people left their politics behind and enjoyed things common to everyone. Here in Washington, D.C., political divisions could run deep, but come Sunday the stadium was filled with united Redskin’s fans, especially when we played Dallas. Even if some rooted for “the other team,” it was all in good fun. Fans of things like Star Wars and Star Trek might be in different political parties, but they could enjoy talking about their favorite characters and episodes. On July 4th, it was great to be an American regardless of which political party we favored; there were parades, fireworks, and the reading of the Declaration of Independence. We could visit the Disney of more innocent times and watch the Main Street Electrical Parade, shoulder-to-shoulder with people of all shape, sizes, colors, and beliefs.
These and others were common or shared spaces where we could all have a good time and forget our troubles and divisions, even if only briefly.
Such spaces and occasions are disappearing, one by one.Everything these days is being politicized. In the football world, the latest kerfuffle over our National Anthem (another thing that used to unite us) is only the latest in a series of attempts by players, owners, and sports networks to inject politics into the game. Football players and coaches are lecturing to us; sports anchors opine, the PC crowd pores over Super Bowl commercials looking for any sign of offense, the Super Bowl halftime shows reek of the sexual revolution. Blech!
Actors, actresses, and singers wag their fingers at us, issuing political speeches and injecting social commentary at the Grammys, Oscars, and Emmys. Do we really care what some celebrity’s political stance is? Do we need to hear how much they like the sexual revolution? Must they weigh in on the latest cause célèbre? Even the opening monologue is some sort of tirade against someone or an opinionated lecture delivered in the bubble of a like-minded crowd who seem to have little understanding of how condescending it all sounds. Gone are the days of good old-fashioned movies that entertained and/or elevated us. Everything has to have a message—usually an attack on traditional values or a foray into our political divisions. This was the very thing we once turned to entertainment to escape.
Victor Borge once said, “Laughter is the shortest distance between two people.” But today even comedy has been infected with politics and the hypersensitivity of political correctness. What makes things funny is how they often stereotypically capture a truth. Yes, it is exaggerated. Yes, it pokes a little fun. Yes, it plays to expectations, though sometimes with a surprising twist. Today we’re not “allowed” to laugh at much of anything. We’ve become so thin-skinned that we’ve lost the ability to laugh at ourselves. Comedy has also become rife with sexual banter that makes it R-rated, and one-sided attacks that reflect its politicization.
Columnist Ben Shapiro has this to say:
America needs to take a breath from politics every so often. Football is one of those breaths.
Hollywood and pop culture would do well to remind themselves that if they don’t want to alienate half their audience and exacerbate our differences, they can allow us room to breathe. The Super Bowl [once] did that … So much for that rosy notion. The NFL has become ground zero for the culture wars. Which means that we can’t see movies anymore, watch TV shows anymore, or even watch sports anymore without feeling that we’re being judged. That means our common spaces are disappearing. And we have so little political common space already that cultural common space was our last relic of togetherness.
Here’s the bottom line: this conflict isn’t good for the country. We need our shared symbols, and we need our shared spaces. Both of those elements are being destroyed for political and ratings gain. If that doesn’t stop, we’re not going to have anything at all in common anymore [Ben Shapiro, writing in “The Daily Wire”].
While this issue is not a Christian one per se — it is a wider cultural one — Pope Benedict XVI diagnosed its deeper roots when he spoke of the “tyranny of relativism.” Relativism is a form of subjectivism which shifts the locus of truth and reality from the object to the subject. Because subjects (people) differ in their perceptions, the truth is then claimed to be relative. This leads to tyranny, however, because when we can no longer point to reality and reason to make our point, we are left with shouting and pressuring. Who wins when reason and reality itself are jettisoned? Those with the most money, power, and influence; those who are loudest; those who are fiercest; those who are willing to go to extremes to force their opinion. When reason and God’s reality are thrust aside, the loud, the powerful, the arrogant, and the extreme get their way.
Amusement parks, movies, parades, and even the gridiron cannot withstand the politicization; it is forcing its way onto the field and into everything. Common spaces are fewer than ever; everything today is a bitter dispute. Blech!
Today I would like to present excerpts from the stirring sermon “On Pastors,” delivered by St. Augustine to the priests and people of Hippo. Although it is directed to priests, I hope that parents and leaders in general might also take courage from it.
In times like these we must all be reminded of the need to preach the Word of God even if we are reviled and our very proclamation of love is labeled “hate speech.” This is not new; St. Augustine calls us to be resolute and to preach the Word of God in season and out of season. Augustine’s words are shown in bold, while my commentary is in plain text.
[The Lord says:] The straying sheep you have not recalled; the lost sheep you have not sought. In one way or another, we go on living between the hands of robbers and the teeth of raging wolves. … The sheep moreover are insolent. … And in light of these present dangers we ask your prayers [From a sermon on pastors by St. Augustine, Bishop (Sermon 46, 14-15: CCL 41, 541-542)].
Whatever the specifics of St. Augustine’s era, today’s clergy and parents have the difficult task of presiding over a flock or family that on one side is pursued by the raging wolf of hostile and scoffing secularism, and on the other is being robbed of strength and clarity by dissension from within, even up to the highest levels in the Church. While a hostile world is to be expected, internal dissension is most lamentable and even more painful. This is especially the case today.
In contentious times such as ours, as the poison of the world infects the flock, some of God’s own people begin to take up the voice and demeanor of the wolf. In certain times and places, someone who strives to disclose the errors of the world will often be resisted and scorned, referred to as intolerant or hateful. A priest may be called out-of-touch or be discounted as “too political.” Some may even walk out as he preaches about controversial issues that are referred to as political, but are in fact moral: abortion, euthanasia, same-sex “marriage,” and so forth. Others may write letters to the bishop criticizing him. While the scoffing of the world is expected, the insolence of the flock is very discouraging.
Thus St. Augustine says here, “We ask your prayers.” Some priests can fall prey to hostility in sinful ways. Some may give way to anger, which can infect evangelical joy. They will engage in mere argumentation and resort to indiscriminate sermonizing. They go from being the Church militant to the Church belligerent.
More common, and usually deadlier, is when a priest reacts by withdrawing from the battlefield altogether, no longer preaching on any topic considered controversial. He does not seek to correct the straying sheep because it might make them angry; he is not willing to bear the emotional burden of this resistance or to brave the stormy waters of controversy to call to them.
Silent pulpits are all too common today. A priest who is silent from the pulpit may tell himself that he is protecting his people’s feelings by not upsetting anyone. In reality, though, he comes to resemble the false shepherds denounced by Jesus, the ones who do not really care for their sheep but rather run when the wolf approaches.
The effect on the flock (and the world) is devastating because Catholics, who are called to be light in the darkness, have come to resemble the darkness. Catholics have become indistinguishable from the general populace in terms of our views on the most critical moral issues of our times. Even Catholics who have not caved in to all aspects of the cultural revolution are often ill-prepared to make a defense for the hope and truth that is in them.
Augustine calls some of the sheep “insolent.” The Latin root of the word lends it the meaning of being unaccustomed to something. Thus one who is insolent scoffs at what he does not understand. The straying sheep are often insolent as a result of poor catechesis.
Ignorance of the faith in the pews, along with pressure from a culture that loudly and effectively proclaims its own views, presents an enormous challenge to pastors. Without persistence and fortitude, many of our clergy can become resigned to mediocrity and inaction.
Augustine continues on to set forth a model of a shepherd’s heart for his sheep (especially the straying ones) that all clergy should emulate.
The shepherd seeks out the straying sheep, but because they have wandered away and are lost they say that they are not ours. “Why do you want us? Why do you seek us?” they ask, as if their straying and being lost were not the very reason for our wanting them and seeking them out. “If I am straying,” he says, “if I am lost, why do you want me?” You are straying, that is why I wish to recall you. You have been lost, I wish to find you. “But I wish to stray,” he says, “I wish to be lost.”
If, with the help of others, a good priest seeks out the lost, the confused, and the broken, still many will say that they are not ours or that we should leave them alone. Others will say, “If you don’t approve of what I do and you think of me as lost and a sinner, why do you want me?” But it is precisely because they are lost that we seek them.
Our disapproval of sin (regardless of how others choose to interpret it) is no different than a doctor’s disapproval of toxic behavior that can lead to cancer; he will caution us to avoid such behavior and to come to him for healing if the cancer has already set in.
Sadly, many today base their fundamental identity on sinful behaviors; they interpret our searching for them as an offense rather than as an act of loving concern.
St. Augustine captures their attitude well: “But I wish to stray, I wish to be lost.” He then he presents an answer that summons us to perseverance:
So you wish to stray and be lost? How much better that I do not also wish this. Certainly, I dare say, I am unwelcome. But I listen to the Apostle who says, “Preach the word; insist upon it, welcome and unwelcome.” … I dare to say, “You wish to stray, you wish to be lost; but I do not want this.” For the one whom I fear does not wish this. And should I wish it, consider his words of reproach: “The straying sheep you have not recalled; the lost sheep you have not sought.” Shall I fear you rather than him? Remember, we must all present ourselves before the judgment seat of Christ.
This is a powerful reminder to every priest and every Christian. Do not lose your zeal for souls. Do not give up. Preach until the day you die, whether your words are welcomed or not.
Even if you should lose your zeal, never forget that the Lord has not lost His. We will all report to Him one day to render an account of our lives. Priests, above all, must be stirred to zeal. If our own love for God and for souls should flag, at least let a holy fear of the day of judgment move us!
Love is the better motive, but failing that, may we be moved by the fear of the Lord and of the day we shall be called to account for our ministry. Further, we must not fear the anger of men more than the indignation of God should we fail Him in the goal for which He ordained us.
Steeled and motivated by this, Augustine concludes with a stirring summons to resolve:
I shall recall the straying; I shall seek the lost. Whether they wish it or not, I shall do it. And should the brambles of the forests tear at me when I seek them, I shall force myself through all straits; I shall put down all hedges. So far as the God whom I fear grants me the strength, I shall search everywhere. I shall recall the straying; I shall seek after those on the verge of being lost.
Amen. Stir in us, O Lord, a zeal for souls. Give us your own love and strength. May we desire souls with your very desire for them. Priests, parents, and leaders: Take heart and be courageous lovers of souls!
Those who seek to strengthen Holy Matrimony and stem the tide of failed marriages propose many remedies, among them better catechesis, improved marriage preparation, and greater emphasis on the sacrament in sermons. All of these are fine ideas and necessary steps, but let’s also ponder a deep but often unexplored root of the trouble with marriage today: idealism or unrealistic expectations.
Although we live in cynical times, many people still hold a highly idealistic view of marriage: that it should be romantic, joyful, loving, and happy all the time. It is an ideal rooted in the dreamy wishes of romantic longing, but an ideal nonetheless. Amor omnia vincit! (Love conquers all!) Surely, we will live happily ever after the way every story says!
Here’s the problem: Many want their marriage to be ideal, and if there is any ordeal, they want a new deal. Yes, many are wandering about thinking, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for,” to borrow from a U2 song.
There is no such thing as an ideal marriage, only real marriage. Two sinners have been married. A man and a woman with fallen natures, living in a fallen world that is governed by a fallen angel, have entered into the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony. Like the graces of any Sacrament, those of Holy Matrimony are necessary not because things are wonderful, but because they are oftentimes difficult. Marriage is meant to sanctify. Like baptism, it offers graces that unfold gradually. The graces unfold to the degree that, and at the speed with which, the couple cooperates with God’s work.
It takes a lifetime of joy and challenge, tenderness and tension, difficulty and growth, in order for a husband and wife to summon each other to the holiness that God gives. Some of God’s gifts come in strange packages. Struggles and irritations are often opportunities to grow and to learn what forgiveness, patience, and suffering are all about. These are precious things to learn and to grow in. Frankly, if we don’t learn to forgive we are going to go to Hell (see Mt 6:14-15). Even the best marriages have tension; without tension there is no change.
This may not describe the ideal, happily-ever-after marriage, but it describes the real one: full of joy, love, hope, and tenderness, but also sorrow, anger, stress, and disappointment.
The real problem does not necessarily come from our ideals about marriage, which are good to strive for, but from the fact that we conceive of these ideals within a hedonistic culture.
Hedonism is the “doctrine” that the chief goals of earthly life are happiness and pleasure. (The Greek word hedone means “pleasure.”) In the hedonistic view, any diminishment of pleasure or happiness is the worst thing imaginable, a complete disaster. Many insist on a kind of God-given right to be happy and pleased. Even some devout Christians fall prey to these exaggerated notions and excuse some selfish and sinful behaviors by saying, “God wants me to be happy doesn’t He?” When the Church (or an individual) suggests that someone should do what is difficult, they react, not with puzzlement, but with downright indignation, as if to say, “How dare you get between anyone and what makes him or her happy!”
Our notion of an ideal (happy, fulfilling, blissful) marriage is seen through the lens of hedonistic extremism. If the ideal marriage is not found, many feel a need—a perfect right—to end it in search of greener pastures.
This is just more evidence of our instant gratification culture that is used to “Rush shipping,” “Buy it with one click,” and “Download now.” If the ideal marriage is not evident very soon, the disappointments and resentments come quickly.
There is a saying that “unrealistic expectations are premeditated resentments.” How quickly unrealistic notions of the picture-perfect marriage are dashed on the shoals of reality.
Somewhere, not only in the Church’s marriage preparation programs but also in our work of assisting personal formation, we need to teach that unrealistic expectations are ultimately destructive. Our ideals are not the problem per se; we must become more sober about our conception of these ideals through the lens of hedonism and instant gratification. Growth takes time. Life moves through stages. Marriage is hard, but so is life. Cutting and running from the imperfect marriage—as some do rather quickly today—is not the solution. Sure enough, one imperfect marriage leads to another and perhaps yet another.
In the past, even the relatively recent past, people tended to stick things out, to work through some differences while agreeing to live with others. We would do well to regain something of this appreciation that earthly life is a mixed bag, that there are going to be challenges. Marriage is no different. Though we may idealize it, we should be aware that we are setting ourselves up for resentment and disappointment if we don’t balance it with the understanding that marriage is hard because life is hard.
Clearly there are many other problems that contribute to today’s high rate of divorce, but an overlooked root is the expectation of an ideal marriage. Yes, many want their marriage to be ideal, and if there is any ordeal, they want a newdeal. (We would do well to remember that in a world full of adults behaving like this, it is the children who really get a raw deal.) This is a deeper and less discussed cultural root of our divorce problem, a deep wound of which we should become more aware.
In the Office of Readings, we are currently reading from the prophet Ezekiel. Sunday’s reading warns of the possibility that moral conditions in the world can get so awful, even among the people of God, that He must take the strongest and most severe of measures.
Ezekiel experienced the coming disaster upon Israel very personally as a last warning to the people.
Thus the word of the Lord came to me: Son of man, by a sudden blow I am taking away from you the delight of your eyes …. That evening my wife died (Ez 24:15, 17).
Ezekiel wrote in the period just before the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem. The loss of his wife was a portent of the coming disaster. God instructed Ezekiel not to mourn, but to turn to the people and say,
Thus the word of the Lord came to me: Say to the house of Israel: Thus says the Lord God: I will now desecrate my sanctuary, the stronghold of your pride, the delight of your eyes, the desire of your soul. The sons and daughters you left behind shall fall by the sword. Ezekiel shall be a sign for you: all that he did you shall do when it happens. … you shall rot away because of your sins and groan one to another.
As for you, son of man (Ezekiel) truly, on the day I take away from them their bulwark, their glorious joy, the delight of their eyes, the desire of their soul, and the pride of their hearts, their sons and daughters …. Thus you shall be a sign to them, and they shall know that I am the Lord (Ezekiel 24, selected verses).
The terrible and tragic moment for Judah came in 587 B.C. The Babylonians utterly destroyed Jerusalem. The Temple was burned and the Ark of the Covenant was lost, never again to be found (until its fulfillment in the Blessed Mother Mary). One could not imagine a more unlikely or complete destruction. Why would God allow His glorious Temple to fall at the hands of an unbelieving nation?
But God is not egocentric. He does not need buildings or holy cities to show His power. His most central work is to fashion a holy people and to draw each of us to holiness.
The terrible state of affairs of ancient Israel and Judah is well documented by the prophets. God’s own people had become depraved in many ways. There was idolatry, injustice, promiscuity, and a tendency to imitate the nations around them. Further they had become incorrigible. God often described them has having necks of iron and foreheads of brass. He called them a rebellious house. On top of all this, they made the presumption that God would never destroy His own temple or allow Jerusalem to fall.
There comes a time when warnings and minor punishments are no longer effective; only the most severe and widespread of losses will purge the evil. Surely this is evident in the smoking ruins of Jerusalem in 587 BC. Those who survived were taken to live in exile.
By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept, when we remembered Zion. On the willows there we hung up our harps (Ps 137:1-2).
We should not delude ourselves into thinking that such a terrible event could only occur in the ancient world. We must consider that our condition can become so debased, so corrupted, that the only solution is the most severe of punishments, one so onerous that we cannot possibly return to our former ways, one that levels the very sources of our pride and sin.
Today, we kill shocking numbers of children in the womb; no amount of preaching or teaching of medical truth seems capable of ending this shedding of innocent blood. Our families are collapsing; we are suffering the ravages of our sexual sins. In our greed we cannot seem to control our spending or ever say no to ourselves. We are saddling future generations with insurmountable debt. No matter the warnings, we cannot or will not stop. There is desperate confusion and silence even in the Church, where one would hope for clarity and words of sanity. Corruptio optimi pessima (The corruption of the best is the worst thing). Believers are silent, weak, and divided, while the wicked and secular are fierce, committed, and focused.
All the while, in our affluence, we cannot imagine that a crushing end might come. Yet God said to the ancient, affluent city of Laodicea,
You say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, so that you may be rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, so that you may see (Revelation 3:17-18).
It becomes hard to see how God might bring us to conversion without the severest of blows.
Nevertheless, do not wish for this. Continue to pray for conversion! The alternative is almost too awful to imagine. Most of us are too comfortable to endure what might come. Saints, sinners, and everyone in between will suffer. Ezekiel was the first to suffer in the collapse of his times, even though he was one who tried to listen and warn.
The message of this week’s meditation in the Office of Readings is clear: Pray, pray, pray. Be sober that God will not hesitate to inflict severe blows if necessary, so that He might at least save some, a remnant.
What Jesus teaches in this Sunday’s Gospel is one of those parables that rock our world and challenge our worldly way of thinking. Frankly, that is one of its purposes. We are tempted to side with the laborers who worked the longest, thinking that their being paid the same amount as those who worked only for an hour is unfair.
Think very carefully before asking God to be “fair.” What we really should ask of God is that He be merciful, for if He were fair, we’d all be in Hell right now. We have no innate capacity to stand before God in pure justice; we simply cannot measure up. It is only grace and mercy that will win the day for us. So be very careful about challenging God’s fairness. In fact, when we see Him being merciful to someone else, we ought to rejoice, for it means that we might stand a chance.
There are other aspects of this Gospel that are important to learn from, in particular, the various dispositions of discipleship. As the parable unfolds, we can see five teachings. Let’s consider each in turn.
I. The AVAILABILITY of Discipleship – The text says, A landowner went at dawn to hire laborers to work in his field … He went later and found others standing idle … “Why do you stand here all day idle?”
What are described here are “day workers” or “day laborers.” These were men who stood in public places hoping to be hired for the day. It was and still is a tough life. If you worked, you ate; if you didn’t, you might have little or nothing to eat. They were hired on a day-to-day basis, only when needed. This is a particularly burdensome form of poverty for its uncertainty and instability. Men like these were and are the poorest of the poor.
Notice, however, that their poverty, their hunger, makes them available. Each morning they show up and are ready, available to be hired. Their poverty also motivates them to seek out the landowner and indicate that they are ready and willing to work. The well-fed and the otherwise employed do not show up; they are not available. There’s something about poverty that makes these men available. Because their cup is empty, it is able to be filled.
We are these men. We are the poor who depend upon God for everything. Sometimes we don’t want to admit it, but we are. Every now and then it is made plain to us how poor, vulnerable, and needy we really are; this tends to make us seek God. In our emptiness, poverty, and powerlessness, suddenly there is room for God. Suddenly our glass, too often filled with the world, is empty enough for God to find room. In our pain we stand ready for God to usher us into the vineyard of His Kingdom. An old gospel song says, “Lord, I’m available to you; my storage is empty and I’m available to you.” It is our troubles that make us get up and go out with the poor to seek the Lord and be available to Him. When things are going too well, heaven knows where we are to be found! Another gospel song says, “Lord don’t move my mountain but give me the strength to climb it. Don’t take away my stumbling blocks but lead me all around, ’cause Lord when my life gets a little too easy, you know I tend to stray from thee.
Yes, we might wish for a trouble-free life, but then where would we be? Would we seek the Lord? Would we make ourselves available to God? Would we ever call on Him?
II. The AUTHORITY of Discipleship – The text says, The LandOWNER said, “Go into my vineyard” … HE sent them into HIS vineyard.
Notice that it is the landowner who calls the shots. Too many who call themselves the Lord’s disciples rush into His vineyard with great ideas and grand projects that they have never really asked God about. This passage teaches us that entrance into the vineyard requires the owner’s permission. If we expect to see fruits (payment for the work) at the end of the day, we have to be on the list of “approved workers.”
Fruitful discipleship is based on a call from the Lord. Scripture says, Unless the Lord builds the House, they that labor to build it labor in vain (Ps 127:1). Too many people run off and get married, take new jobs, accept promotions, start projects, and so forth without ever asking God.
True discipleship requires the Lord’s to call us first: “Go into my vineyard.” Got a bright idea? Ask God first. Discern His call with the Church and a good spiritual director, guide, or pastor.
III. The ALLOTMENT of Discipleship – The text says, The vineyard owner came at dawn, 9:00 AM, Noon, 3:00 PM, and 5:00 PM.
We may wonder why God calls some early and others late; it’s none of our business. He does call at different times. Even those whom He calls early are not always asked to do everything right now. There is a timing to discipleship.
Moses thought he was ready at age 40, and in his haste murdered a man. God said, “Not now!” and made him wait until he was 80.
Sometimes we’ve got something we want to do but the Lord says, “Not yet.” We think, “But Lord, this is a great project and many will benefit!” But the Lord says, “Not yet.” We say, “But Lord, I’m ready to do it now!” And the Lord says, “Not yet.”
Sometimes we think we’re ready, but we’re really not. An old gospel song says, “God is preparing me. He’s preparing me for something I cannot handle right now. He’s making me ready, just because he cares. He’s providing me with what I’ll need to carry out the next matter in my life. God is preparing me. Just because he cares for me. He’s maturing me, arranging me, realigning my attitude. He’s training me, teaching me, tuning me, purging me, pruning me. He’s preparing me.”
IV. The ABIDING of Discipleship – The text says, When it was evening the owner of the vineyard said to the foreman, “… summon the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and ending with the first.”
Notice that the wages are paid in the evening and in the order determined by the landowner. The lesson is simple: we’ve got to stay in the vineyard. Some people start things but do not finish them. If you’re not there at the end of the day, there’s no pay.
Scripture says that we must persevere. Here are three passages carrying this message: But he who perseveres to the end will be saved (Mat 24:13). To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor, and immortality, he will give eternal life (Rom 2:7). You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised (Heb 10:36).
Yes, we must work until evening comes. Saying that we had faith and received all our sacraments when we were young will not suffice. We have to work until evening. An old spiritual says, “Some go to Church for to sing and shout, before six months they’s all turned out.” How about you?
V. The ASSESSMENT of Discipleship – The text says, Those hired first grumbled … “We bore the heat of the day and burdens thereof.”
The workers hired early think of their entrance into the vineyard and its labors as a “burden.” The vineyard, of course, is really the Kingdom of God. Many lukewarm “cradle Catholics” consider the faith to be a burden; they think that sinners “have all the fun.” Never mind that such thinking is completely perverse; it is held by many anyway, whether consciously or unconsciously.
Consider the laborers hired last. Were they having a picnic? Not exactly. Most were resigning themselves to the fact that they and their families would have little or nothing to eat that night. Similarly, most sinners are not “living the life of Riley.” Repeated, lifelong sin brings much grief: disease, dissipation of wealth, regret, loss of family, and addiction. No matter what they tell you, sinners do not have all the fun.
Further, being a Christian is not a burden. If we accept it, we receive a whole new life from Christ: a life of freedom, purity, simplicity, victory over sin, joy, serenity, vision, and destiny.
How do you view the Christian life? Is it a gift, a treasure beyond compare no matter its difficulties? Or is it a burden, a bearing of labor in the heat of the day? Scripture says, For by grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God. The passage goes on to describe our “works” not as burdens but as something God enables us to do: For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them (Eph 2:8-10).
So these are five dispositions of discipleship, as taught by the Lord in this parable.
Note well what the Lord teaches, for too often we want to decide what it means to be a disciple. Beware, for the worst kind of disciple is the one who gets out ahead of the Lord and tries to define his or her own role. Jesus is Lord; let Him lead. Here are some final questions for you: Are you a disciple who is glad at being called, the earlier the better? Or are you like the disciples who grumbled at having to do all the work in the heat of the day? Is discipleship delightful or dreary for you?
The song in the video below says, “I’m available to you.” It reminds us that the owner still seeks souls to enter His vineyard. He wants to use your voice to say to someone, “You, too, go into my vineyard!”
In our culture, many battles are fought on the question of nature. The word “nature” comes from the Latin natus, which means “birth.” Thus, nature is what we are intrinsically born with, what we are born to be. Church teaching and traditional philosophy insist that things have a nature. That is, they are endowed with certain fundamental traits that make them what they are.
As such, nature is something to discover and study. We go out to reality, study it, and obey its demands. Things (including people) have a nature, a purpose; we do well to respect that nature or we will suffer the consequences. God may forgive, but nature does not.
Yet in increasing ways, many people today deny that things have a nature. They argue that most of what has traditionally been called the nature of things is simply a human construct. And if we have constructed something, then we can tear it down; we can “deconstruct” it. As we all know, there is a lot of tearing down going on regarding the meaning of sexuality, gender, marriage, family, and so forth.
In terms of our human nature, there are some legitimate questions as to its interaction with roles. Traditionally, men assumed roles that were dangerous or physically strenuous. For example, many considered it unbecoming for a woman to be a firefighter, soldier, or iron worker. More recently, there has been greater acceptance of women undertaking such roles. These are roles, however, not nature per se. Masculinity and femininity provide a natural delineation. While roles can vary, we are not free to wholly cast aside the fact that there are two sexes, male and female. These are not mere constructs, they are inscribed in our nature, in our very bodies.
As most of you know, I like to keep my Saturday posts light, often featuring a video. In that spirit, I do not intend to go into a deep discourse about the deconstructionism of our times. Instead, I will simply offer an interesting video on airport construction! You may wonder what this has to do with nature, human or otherwise. To answer simply, it shows that those who design airports study human nature very carefully.
We humans behave in certain predictable ways because we share a common nature. Airports are designed to bank on our predictable behaviors. This underscores that nature is not a merely human construct that can change on a whim, but a stable and consistent reality that is common even across individual human variations. The fact is, we behave within a predictable range; those who have a financial interest in how we behave study human nature extensively. They cannot “afford” to entertain deconstructionist theories, which hold that our nature is a mere human construct. No indeed. To those involved in the marketplace, reality is very important; the deconstructionist view doesn’t help the bottom line.
Watch the entire video if you have the time. If not, even the first few minutes should get the point across.
Most of us struggle with the fact that God allows bad things to happen to us. Why does He not intervene more often to protect us from attacks of various kinds and from events that cause sadness, setbacks, or suffering?
