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The Collect (Opening Prayer) for this coming Sunday (27^th Week of the Year), though directed to God, teaches us that our prayer is not always about things with which we are comfortable. Prayer sometimes leads us to look into areas of our life where we struggle with sin or we struggle to desire to be free of sin. Here is the prayer:

Almighty ever-living God,
who in the abundance of your kindness
surpass the merits and the desires of those who entreat you,
pour out your mercy upon us
to pardon what conscience dreads
and to give what prayer does not dare to ask.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, forever and ever.

After asking for God’s mercy and acknowledging that God is offering more than our minds can grasp, we make the following two requests:

1. [May you] pardon what conscience dreads.
2. [May you] give what prayer does not dare to ask.

Let’s look at each.

[May you] pardon what conscience dreads.

The Catechism states the following regarding our conscience:

Deep within his conscience man discovers a law which he has not laid upon himself but which he must obey. Its voice, ever calling him to love and to do what is good and to avoid evil, sounds in his heart at the right moment. For man has in his heart a law inscribed by God. His conscience is man’s most secret core and his sanctuary. There he is alone with God whose voice echoes in his depths (# 1776).

Our conscience is not merely what we think or what it pleases us to think; it is the voice of God echoing in our depths. Whatever rationalizations we may wish to assemble in an attempt to suppress the conscience, there is still, deep within, that voice of God that is calling us. Deep down, we know what we are doing and we know when it is wrong. No matter how many “teachers” we assemble to tell us what our ears want to hear, that voice is still there.

I suspect that this is why the world and its devotees are so angry at the Catholic Church for reminding us what God says. If our teachings and corrections were merely regarded as outdated opinions, the world would not hate us, would not be at war with us. No matter how emphatically people deny that their consciences trouble them, deep down inside they know better. The louder these denials, the less we should be convinced. Why are they forever insisting that the Church change her teachings? If we’re just a pathetic and outdated institution, why do they care what we teach? Again, because deep down they know that we are right; they know what is right and do not like to be reminded of it.

Our words, the words of Christ, touch something; they “prick” the conscience and remind people of things they know inside but would rather forget. The voice of God echoes within, convicting them and inciting a godly dread of sin and its ultimate consequences.

And this is true for believers as well, who, though not intensely hostile, would still prefer to avoid the voice of their conscience and do not enjoy the holy dread of sin it incites. It is true that not all sorrow for sin is from God. St. Paul distinguishes godly sorrow (which draws one to God for healing) from worldly sorrow (which deflates the sinner and has him despair of being able to change or of God’s healing love). The proper dread that conscience incites is always a call of love from God, who bids us to repent and return to Him.

Still, we avoid what conscience dreads. Who likes to experience fear or negative feelings?

But prayer must often ask us to look honestly at the less pleasing and consoling things in our life. This prayer bids us to listen to the dread of conscience (dread of the sin and of its due punishments) and to seek pardon.

[May you] give what prayer does not dare to ask.

Some argue that the translation of this clause is not very exact. The Latin is quod oratio non praesumit. Some prefer a softer translation in which the phrase asks God to give us the things that we are not worthy of requesting, things we do not presume to ask for because it would be too bold for us to do so. Such a translation does not offend the Latin text, but does seem to miss the overall context of the prayer, which is asking God to help us to overcome personal resistance.

We have already seen how and why many of us resist what conscience dreads and would rather be done with the voice of God echoing in their depths. But consider that we resist asking for many things out of fear.

The classic example of this is St. Augustine’s stance when he asked God to make him chaste … but not yet! Though he could see the value of chastity, Augustine enjoyed his promiscuity and was fearful in asking the Lord to remove something that he liked.

And thus there are many things we dare not ask for because we fear actually getting them. The attitude is “Ask not, lest ye be answered”! Many are not ready to forgive, to be chaste, or to be more generous; they fear the changes that such things would bring.

Perhaps here one can at least pray, “Lord, at least give me the desire to be chaste if I don’t even have that.” “Give me the desire to share with and love the poor, which I don’t currently have.”

If we begin to desire what God is offering, we are more chaste, generous, and forgiving because we want to be. And thus the fear of what prayer does not dare to ask abates. Then we are ready to ask God for what He really wants to give us.

The prayer is asking us to look at our resistance and fear and to pray out of that very experience rather than seeking to suppress or deny it.

Consider well, then, the beautiful, though difficult and daring invitation of this prayer. Though directed to God, it also bids us to look within and to admit our fears and resistance.

On Fridays, I typically feature a short video that illustrates the faith, usually in some unintentional ways. Today, I’d like to call to your attention to a new series of videos by Bishop Robert Barron, which intentionally set forth the faith: Catholicism: The Pivotal Players. The first volume of the series has been released and covers St. Francis of Assisi, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Catherine of Siena, Michelangelo, Blessed John Henry Newman, and G.K. Chesterton. One or more future volumes will be forthcoming.

There are various ways of relating Church history. One can emphasize themes, take a strict chronological approach, or focus on key historical figures and the times in which they lived. It is this last approach that Bishop Barron takes.

As we have come to expect with Bishop Barron’s projects, “The Pivotal Players” is wonderfully done. The visuals are stunning. Beauty, goodness, and truth belong together, and Bishop Barron gets the balance right. Words and images support each other and summon us to goodness. For those who cannot afford pilgrimages to distant lands, Bishop Barron’s series provides a way to almost be there!

The biographical material presented is richly informative without being overwhelming. Word and image together paint a full picture. The material is broken up into manageable 12-15 minute segments, allowing a parish group or family to stop and discuss along the way.

There are the wonderful cutaways in which Bishop Barron speaks informally to a man off-camera, decoding the material and framing it well. He applies the material to modern times and helps us to understand the original context as well as its historical significance. These interludes are some of the best moments in the videos; he makes very memorable observations. As a small example, Bishop Barron likens St. Francis of Assisi to a bomb or a clanging bell that God used to wake up the Church. What a memorable, cogent remark!

I highly recommend that you watch the series. I am currently viewing it with a small group of parishioners. As we watch, a great deal comes alive for us: hagiography, to be sure, but also history, liturgy, ecclesiology, spirituality, and new perspective. It is a rich meal provided by the good Bishop—a feast for both the eyes and the soul. I’m glad to know this is just the first volume!

Today I would like to discuss the Gospel from last Saturday morning’s daily Mass (25^th Week of the Year). For indeed one of the more beautiful passages in the Old Testament is the 12th Chapter of Ecclesiastes. It is a melancholy but soulful meditation on old age. Its poetic imagery is masterful as it draws from the increasingly difficult effects of old age such as hearing loss, fading eyesight, difficulty walking, digestive issues, and even gray hair.

Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come And the years approach of which you will say, I have no pleasure in them; Before the sun is darkened. and the light, and the moon, and the stars, while the clouds return after the rain; When the guardians of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent, And the grinders are idle because they are few, and they who look through the windows grow blind; When the doors to the street are shut, and the sound of the mill is low; When one waits for the chirp of a bird, but all the daughters of song are suppressed; And one fears heights, and perils in the street; When the almond tree blooms, and the locust grows sluggish and the caper berry is without effect, Because man goes to his lasting home, and mourners go about the streets; Before the silver cord is snapped and the golden bowl is broken, And the pitcher is shattered at the spring, and the broken pulley falls into the well, And the dust returns to the earth as it once was, and the life breath returns to God who gave it. Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth, all things are vanity! (Ecclesiastes 12:1-8)

And now some commentary on each verse (my comments are in red)

Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come And the years approach of which you will say, I have no pleasure in them;

We are advised to give thanks to God for the vigor of youth because “evil” days will come. Here evil does not mean “sinfully evil.” Rather, it refers to days that are difficult and bad, days that bring challenge and pain.

We might want to be thankful for living in the modern age, because the burdens of old age are far less than they were in ancient times. Consider all the medicines and aids that make aging less difficult: Pain medicines alleviate arthritis; calcium supplements help with osteoporosis; blood pressure medication helps prevent stroke and partial paralysis; motorized scooters increase mobility; eyeglasses and hearing aids improve our ability to interact. In the ancient world, age only brought increasing and cumulative burdens, so that our author says regarding these days, “I have no pleasure in them.”

Before the sun is darkened. and the light, and the moon, and the stars, while the clouds return after the rain;

This is a poignantly poetic description of eyesight going bad. The light darkens, the moon and stars are less visible (perhaps they are blurry), and the clouds of cataracts begin to afflict the elderly.

When the guardians of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent, And the grinders are idle because they are few, and they who look through the windows grow blind;

The “guardians of the house” are the arms. They begin to tremble with the tremors common to old age, even without Parkinson’s disease.

The “strong men” are the legs. They are bent, less able to carry the weight of the body. Bent also describes the legs when we are seated, unable to walk.

The “grinders” are the teeth and they are few! We have far better dental health today. In ancient times, it was common for the elderly to have lost many if not most of their teeth. This made it difficult to eat and required food to be mashed.

The image of an elderly person sitting by a window looking out, but able to see less and less, is surely sad, but also vivid. I remember my grandmother in her last years. She could no longer read much because her eyesight was so poor and her mind could not concentrate on the text. So she sat for hours and just looked out the window.

When the doors to the street are shut, and the sound of the mill is low; When one waits for the chirp of a bird, but all the daughters of song are suppressed;

The “doors to the street” are the tightly compressed lips common to the very elderly, especially when teeth are missing. It also depicts how many of the elderly stop talking much. Their mouths seem shut tight.

The sound of the mill may be another reference to chewing. Many of the elderly lose their appetite. One the psalms says regarding the elderly, “I moan like a dove and forget to eat my bread” (Psalm 102:4).

Waiting for the chirp of the birds may be a reference to the silence of the elderly, but it may also be a reference to deafness, as many can no longer hear their singing and chirping, something the young often take for granted.

And one fears heights, and perils in the street; When the almond tree blooms, and the locust grows sluggish and the caper berry is without effect,

Walking is difficult, sometimes treacherous, and requires great effort for many of the elderly. Whereas the young may not think twice about climbing a flight of stairs, the elderly may see them as an insurmountable obstacle.

Perils in the street like loose or upturned stones cause fear because falls for the elderly can be catastrophic. They may also not be able to get up if they fall.

The almond tree blooming is a symbol for gray hair because almond trees had white blooms.

The caper berry had several uses in the ancient world. It was an appetite stimulant, an aphrodisiac, and was also used to treat rheumatism!  But in old age, it would seem that the desired effects are hard to come by.

Because man goes to his lasting home, and mourners go about the streets; Before the silver cord is snapped and the golden bowl is broken, And the pitcher is shattered at the spring, and the broken pulley falls into the well, And the dust returns to the earth as it once was, and the life breath returns to God who gave it.

Finally, death comes, as symbolized by the mourners in the street. The silver cord and the golden bowl, symbols of life, are now snapped and broken.

The broken pitcher symbolizes that the body no longer contains the soul.

The pulley, a device used to lift, is now broken, indicating that the body will no longer rise from its place but rather fall into the well of the grave.

And we return to the dust and the soul goes to God.

Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth, all things are vanity!

In the end, all things pass. Nothing remains. Because all things are to pass, they are vain (empty). The physical world is less real than the spiritual world, because the physical passes while the spiritual remains. Since you have been raised to new life with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is seated at God’s right hand (Col 1:3).

This chapter from Ecclesiastes is a sad but powerfully beautiful description of old age. I have often shared it with the very elderly and those who are suffering the ill effects of old age. I remember reading it slowly to my father as he lay dying in his hospital room. He could no longer talk much, but as I read it to him I saw him nod and raise his hands as if to say “Amen!” It was almost as if he meant to say, “Somebody understands; God understands.” Perhaps you also know an elderly person who could benefit from this passage. I know that it is sad and that not everyone is in a condition that they can hear such a stark and sad description, but some are in a frame of mind such that they can derive peace from it, as God, through His word, tell them that He knows exactly what they are going through.

https://youtu.be/FinjNCcxlTs

 

One of the great illusions under which we labor is that if we only get just one more thing from this world, then we will be happy. Perhaps we think that if we just had a little more money, or a better job, or the latest iPhone, or if we were married to so-and-so, or if we lived in a better neighborhood, then we would be satisfied and content at last. But “at last” never seems to come even if we do get some of the things on our list. As Ecclesiastes puts it, The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing (Ecc 1:8). Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income (Ecc. 5:8).

Although we realize this deep down, we continue to fall for the lie again and again. We think that just one more thing will do the trick. So we lay out the money and spend the time. And then the delight lasts twenty minutes at most! The world just can’t close the deal.

There is a joke (a parable, in my mind) that illustrates the endless treadmill the world has us on and how it continually seduces us into wanting just one more thing. In the end, this leads us to neglect the one thing most necessary.

There was a lonely man who thought that perhaps buying pet would ease his loneliness. So he went to the pet store and looked at many animals. He found himself drawn to one in particular. The sign over the cage said, “Talking Parrot: Guaranteed to talk.” Thinking that this would surely solve his problem, the man brought the cage up to the merchant at the counter.

“That’ll be $250, please.”

A week later the man returned, disappointed.

“This parrot isn’t talking!”

“You mean to say that he didn’t climb the ladder and talk?”

“Ladder? You didn’t tell me about a ladder!”

“Oh, sorry. The ladder is $10.”

So the man bought the ladder, brought it home, and put it in the cage. Another week went by and the man returned to the pet store.

“This parrot still isn’t talking!”

“You mean to say that he didn’t climb the ladder, look in the mirror, and talk?”

“Mirror? You didn’t mention anything about a mirror!”

“Oh, sorry. It’ll be $10 for the mirror.”

So the man bought the mirror, brought it home, and put it in the cage along with the ladder. Another week went by and the man returned to the pet store again.

“This parrot still isn’t talking!”

“You mean to say that he didn’t climb the ladder, look in the mirror, peck the bell, and talk?”

“Bell? You didn’t say anything about a bell!”

“Oh, sorry. The bell is $10.”

So the man bought the bell, brought it home, and put it in the cage along with the ladder and the mirror. Yet another week went by and the man returned to the pet store.

“This parrot still isn’t talking!”

“You mean to say that he didn’t climb the ladder, look in the mirror, peck the bell, jump on the swing, and talk?”

“Swing? You didn’t tell me about a swing!”

“Oh, sorry. It’ll be $10 for the swing.”

So the man bought the swing, brought it home, and put it in the cage along with the ladder, the mirror, and the bell. One more week went by and the man returned to the pet store again.

“How’s your parrot?”

“He’s dead!”

“Dead? Did he ever talk before he died?”

“Yes, he did finally talk.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Don’t they sell any birdseed at that store?’”

Lesson 1: Promises, Promises

The world and the “prince of this world” are always promising results, yet when those results aren’t forthcoming there are only more demands. First the bird, then the ladder, the bell, the mirror, and the swing. There is always just one more thing that’s needed before the perfect result comes! But it’s a lie. The lie comes in many forms: you just need one more accessory, or the upgraded version of the app, or just one more drink, or a newer car, or a bigger house, or a face lift, or bariatric surgery. Yes, you just need one more thing and then you’ll be there. Happiness is always just past the next purchase.

In speaking to the woman at the well, Jesus said, Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again (Jn 4:13). And that is the sober truth about this world: it cannot finally quench our thirst, which is a thirst for God and Heaven. But time and time again we go back to the world and listen to the same lie, thinking that this time it will be different.

Surely it is sensible to make use of the things of this world to aid us in accomplishing our basic duties, but they are not the answer to our deeper needs. The big lie is that they are the answer. And when they fail to satisfy us, the lie just gets bigger, declaring that just a little more of it will surely close the deal.

Lesson 2: The One Thing Most Necessary

In buying the ladder, mirror, bell, and swing, the man neglected the most important thing: food. So, too, for us. We seek to accumulate worldly toys and trinkets that are passing, while neglecting eternal and lasting realities. We seem to find time for TV, sports, shopping, etc., but neglect or completely forget about prayer, Scripture, the Sacraments, the Liturgy, worship, and the development of any kind of relationship with the Lord. We are staring into the mirror focused on our own self. The enticements of this world summon us to endless things, mostly trivial in the long run. We are climbing the ladder of success without regard as to what is at the top of that ladder.

All of these less important matters divert us from the one thing necessary: feeding our souls on the Lord. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him…the one who feeds on me will live because of me (Jn 6:56-58).

Ah, but there’s no time for all that. Getting to Mass, praying, receiving Holy Communion? No time! I hear a bell summoning me to just one more diversion, one more meeting. I’m too busy climbing the ladder of success. I’m too busy looking at myself in the mirror to make sure that I fit in, and that everyone likes me.

“Dead? Did he ever talk before he died?”

“Yes, he did finally talk.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Don’t they sell any birdseed at that store?’”

Just a little parable on the lies of the devil and the empty promises of this world.

On the Feast Day of St. Matthew (celebrated Wednesday of this week), we must acknowledge a great mercy in Jesus’ call. As a tax collector, Matthew was considered a great sinner. In fact, the term “tax collector” was a biblical euphemism for great sinner. Yet despite this, Jesus called him to be an Apostle.

In our times many set mercy and the fact that we are sinners in in opposition to each other. But the Lord Jesus unites these realities together. For the Lord, mercy is necessary because there is sin, not because sin is “no big deal.” It is because sin is a big deal that mercy is needed and is glorious.

Bishop Robert Barron aptly states, Many receive the message of divine mercy as tantamount to a denial of the reality of sin, as though sin no longer matters. But just the contrary is the case. To speak of mercy is to be intensely aware of sin and its peculiar form of destructiveness (Vibrant Paradoxes: The Both/And of Catholicism, p. 1).

Mercy does not deny sin; it acknowledges it and supplies an often-challenging remedy. Jesus shows mercy by calling us from our sin and healing us from its effects.

This understanding is evident in the Gospel for the Feast of St. Matthew:

As Jesus passed by,
he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the customs post.
He said to him, “Follow me.”
And he got up and followed him.
While he was at table in his house,
many tax collectors and sinners came
and sat with Jesus and his disciples.
The Pharisees saw this and said to his disciples,
“Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?”
He heard this and said,
“Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do.
Go and learn the meaning of the words,
I desire mercy, not sacrifice.
I did not come to call the righteous but sinners” (Matt. 9:9-13).

Notice three things from this Gospel about the relationship between mercy and sin:

I. In His mercy, Jesus reckons us as sinners and regards us as sick. Jesus states plainly, “I have come to call sinners” (this means us). He also says that those who are well do not need a doctor, but the sick do (this means us).

Many today have been deceived. Some even call their sin good and something of which to be proud. They say, “God made me this way,” or “God likes me just the way I am.” No! To those such as these the Lord Jesus says, “You are sick. You are a sinner.” An antiphon in the Breviary says, God sees all men as sinners, that he might show them his mercy.

So in His mercy Jesus does not overlook sin or call it something good; he calls it what it is: sin and sickness.

II. In His mercy, Jesus summons us to change. In this Gospel, Jesus calls Matthew away from his tax post. He says, “Follow me.” In other words, “Stop what you are doing, come away from it, and follow me out of here.” To the woman caught in adultery He says, “Do not sin again.” Jesus began His ministry by saying, “Repent and believe the Gospel.” To repent (metanoiete) means to change, to come to a new and different mind.

The changes Jesus insists upon are too numerous to list in their entirety, but among them are that we become free of lust, vengeful anger, greed, and unforgiveness, and that we become more generous, loving, serene, faithful, and trusting.

Thus in His mercy Jesus does not confirm us in our sin; He summons us away from it. He summons us to change and equips us to do so. His merciful call is “Come away from here. Enough of this; follow me.”

III. In His mercy, Jesus heals sinners of sin. Jesus uses the image of a doctor and states plainly that sick people (sinners) need a doctor. Jesus is that doctor. A doctor does not look at a sick patient and say, “You’re just fine the way you are” or “I affirm you.” That would be malpractice. Jesus sees sin for what it is. He calls it such and prescribes the necessary medicines. He will also likely speak to a person’s lifestyle and recommend needed changes. This is how a doctor heals.

Jesus invokes the image of a doctor with what He does. He diagnoses and says, “This is bad. This is sickness. This is sin.” He then applies healing remedies such as the Sacraments, the Holy Liturgy, His Word, the carrying of the cross, active and passive purifications, punishments due to sin, solid moral teaching, and holy fellowship. Like a doctor, Jesus summons us from a bad and unhealthy life to a good and healthy one.

Thus, in His mercy, Jesus heals our sins. He does not ignore them or approve of them. And He certainly does not call them good or something to celebrate. In His mercy, He heals them; He ends them.

So mercy is not a bland kindness. It is not mere flattery that pretends that sin does not exist or that it doesn’t matter. Beware of fake, flattering mercy. True mercy says, “Sin is awful. Let’s get out of here and go to a far better place.”

Matthew got up and followed Jesus. How about us?

One of the great mysteries of our life in this world is that we can endure more pain than pleasure. Indeed, we can endure only a little pleasure at a time. In fact, too much pleasure actually brings pain: sickness, hangovers, obesity, addiction, laziness, and even boredom. Yet we seem to be able to endure a lot of pain. Some of our pain, whether physical or emotional, can be very intense and go on for years.

Why is it that we can endure more pain than pleasure?

Physiologists and anthropologists might focus their answer on the fact that we are wired for survival and being able to endure pain helps us more than being able to enjoy pleasure. Fair enough. But I would like to offer an additional answer from a spiritual point of view.

The spiritual answer is that pain is for now while pleasure is for the hereafter. In this world, this exile, this valley of tears, we are being tested; we are meant to fill up our quotient of pain. And while we do enjoy some pleasures here, they are only a foretaste of what will be fully ours only in Heaven. In this world the foretaste seems limited to bite-sized morsels. Otherwise (as noted) we are overwhelmed by pleasure, distracted by it, and even sickened and enslaved by it. Until pain has had its proper effect within us, we are not disciplined or pure enough to properly enjoy large amounts of pleasure.

Pain is thus our first assignment here in this world, this paradise lost. Pain both purifies and teaches.

We should recall that God offered us the paradise of Eden with the proviso that we trust Him to teach us what is best. But we insisted on the knowledge of good and evil for ourselves and the right to decide what was right and wrong. We wanted a better deal than Eden. Here we are now in that “better deal.” Adam and Eve chose to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, even knowing that God had said it would usher in suffering and death. And we have all ratified their choice on countless occasions.

God, respecting our freedom, did not undo our choice. Rather, He said, in effect, “Fine, I will meet you at the cross of suffering and death, and allow that very suffering and death to be the way back to me.” And thus the way back to paradise, and to an even higher and heavenly glory, is through the cross.

This is why our tolerance for pain is greater now than is our capacity for pleasure. God has equipped us in this way because pain is for now; pleasure is for later.

Frankly, we need a high tolerance for pain, because it is a needed remedy for a very serious malady. Our condition is grave and requires strong medicine. The cross and its pain is the strong medicine needed. And thus our tolerance for pain must be certainly be greater than our capacity for pleasure.

Pain, despite its unpleasant qualities, has many salutary effects. It teaches us limits and helps conquer our pride. It purifies us. It reminds us that this world is passing and cannot ultimately be our answer. It intensifies our longing for Heaven and the shalom of God. If we endure pain with faith, it draws us to seek help and to trust God more. Pain endured with faith is like being under the surgeon’s scalpel. The scalpel inflicts pain but only to cut away what is harmful. It is a strong but healing medicine.

For now, our assignment is clear. Pain has the upper hand and is the strong medicine we need. When in pain, seek relief from God. But if he says no, remember that God promises that His grace will be sufficient for us (see 2 Cor 12:9), and that pain has a healing place for now. It is indeed a gift in a strange package.

Yes, it is a mysterious truth that we have a higher tolerance for pain than for pleasure. But given our current location in paradise lost, it makes sense. One day when suffering, pain, and death have had their full effect, we will enter into the Heaven of God, where pain will be no more and where our capacity for pleasure will blossom like a rose. Having been purified by our pain, our capacity for pleasure will now be full and there will be joys unspeakable and glories untold.