The commercial below is a humorous illustration of the clash of cultures. As the scene opens, we see a formally clad orchestra performing the famed Brandenburg Concerto. The focus then shifts to a percussionist at the back of the orchestra. The man proceeds to bring the entire orchestra to a halt by engaging in a wild solo reminiscent of the excesses of a 20th century rock guitarist.
While the ad is humorous, it also is a sad commentary on what has happened to our culture. The orchestra bespeaks a kind of order, one that stays within a framework so that the musicians can work together and make beautiful music. To some this may seem stuffy and confining, but the rules make the game; the boundaries make it possible to move forward together.
The over-the-top solo illustrates the modern tendency to emphasize wild eccentricities, to focus on the one rather than the group. The entire solo performance says, Look at me!
We see a lot of this today. Strange, problematic, egocentric, and even bizarre behaviors demand attention and are celebrated. Just as the commercial illustrates, though, the effect is that the collective “music” ends and the everyone is forced to focus on the one, the individual—and the individual gets more bizarre by the day.
Individuality has its place in any culture, but too often today wild excess means that our collective song is stopped and the stage is commandeered by ever wilder and more excessive displays.
Something to ponder as you enjoy this amusing commercial. It helps us to be able to laugh at ourselves just a bit.
There is a sobering passage in the Book of Leviticus that speaks to the need for priests to be faithful to the prescribed liturgical norms. While the offense described in this passage is complex, the main point is clear enough: The liturgy is revealed by God and is not the personal plaything of the priest or the congregation. Although some of the liturgical edicts of the Old Covenant have been fulfilled and are therefore no longer binding, only the Church, in careful discernment, can set liturgical norms; God’s priests and people must not stray from them.
Let’s take a look at the text consider its sobering reminder:
Now Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, each took his censer and put fire in it and laid incense on it and offered strange fire before the Lord, which he had not commanded them. And fire came out from before the Lord and consumed them, and they died before the Lord. Then Moses said to Aaron, “This is what the Lord has said: ‘Among those who are near me I will be sanctified, and before all the people I will be glorified.’” (Leviticus 10:1-3).
Wow, two priests struck dead by God for a liturgical violation! The severity of this moment ought to make us more cautious about brushing off liturgical abuses as “no big deal.” And while not all liturgical errors are equally serious, intentionally dispensing with sacred norms is highly displeasing to God.
The sin of Nadab and Abihu is complex and the nature of their offense is somewhat debated. A common explanation sets forth the following problems with what they did:
Although the wording is not completely clear, it is likely that Nadab and Abihu each took “his” own censer rather than the sacred thurible of the sanctuary. However, it is also possible that the “his” referred to Aaron, and that Nadab and Abihu each took Aaron’s censer (see # 3 below).
They seem to have offered it together, whereas the incense was generally offered by only one priest at a time.
They intruded upon the functions of the high priest, who alone burnt incense in a censer (see Leviticus 16:12-13; Numbers 17:11). (Although ordinary priests sometimes burnt incense, it was only on the golden altar in the holy place (Exodus 30:7-8) or on the brazen altar as a part of the memorial (See Leviticus 2:2-3; Leviticus 2:16).)
They offered the incense at an unauthorized time (apart from the morning and evening sacrifice).
They offered “strange fire,” meaning that they filled their vessels with common fire instead of taking it from the holy fire of the altar, which was always to be used in burning incense. (Others think that the phrase “strange fire” denotes fire not offered according to the prescribed law (see Leviticus 9:24; Leviticus 16:12).)
Later on in Leviticus, the text indicates that Nadab and Abihu had partaken too much of the drink offering and were likely intoxicated (see Leviticus 10:9).
The above enumeration may seem like “inside baseball” and the technicalities described arcane, but we should be most concerned about the last line of the Scripture passage: Then Moses said to Aaron, “This is what the Lord has said: ‘Among those who are near me I will be sanctified, and before all the people I will be glorified.’”
In other words, the purpose of the liturgy is not to glorify man. It is not to entertain. It is not to serve as an occasion for priests to boast or to engage in unauthorized and egocentric displays. The purpose of the liturgy is that God be glorified and known as holy.
Sadly, many people today see the liturgy as a stage upon which man is to be exalted and entertained. Much time is devoted to announcements, self-referential hymns, self-congratulatory outbursts. Liturgical norms are often set aside in service of human preference or the ego of a priest who thinks his own words and gestures far outshine what the “institutional” Church and sacred tradition have directed. Speed, convenience, and comfort seem to far outweigh any notion that the liturgy involves offering a sacrifice to God in gratitude and obedience.
This does not mean that the sacred liturgy has to be unreasonably severe, slavishly robotic, or wholly unconcerned with the good of God’s people. Charity and prudence both require that the liturgy also manifest God’s mercy, goodness, and truth in ways that are intelligible and helpful to God’s people. In general, though, the balance has tipped so far away from glorifying God that we must constantly reminded ourselves that God is the point, not us. When He is the point we are blessed, for we look beyond our often petty and vain pursuits and come to find our true selves in God.
This passage from Leviticus should remind us that misconstruing the sacred liturgy is displeasing to God—not because He has a big ego, but because such abuse harms us. We were made to glorify God and find true happiness in so doing. Liturgical abuse in service of anthropocentric interests makes our liturgies small-minded and insular. Ultimately it is we who are deprived of our truer and greater joy, which is God Himself.
Here at Holy Comforter-St. Cyprian Parish in Washington, D.C., we celebrate the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi with the blessing of the animals. Although most folks bring dogs to be blessed, there are usually some who bring cats and a few other animals like ferrets. Once, someone even brought a snake!
In the past I have shared a list of things we can learn from dogs. When I was growing up, we always had a dog, so although I did not compose the list below, I can vouch for its accuracy.
Over my years of city living as an adult, I have grown accustomed to having cats (they are great mousers in old rectories). So I set my thoughts toward composing a similar list of what I have learned from cats. They are such independent and self-assured animals! They really let you know who’s boss, but mitigate their arrogance somewhat with clownish play and affectionate “head-butts.”
God speaks to us in all of creation, including our pets, to whom we are often so close. What is God saying? Many things!
So here is my list of what I have heard God say through the cats I have loved over the years: Tupac, Katy Bell, Jenny June, Gracie Girl, Rita Hayworth, Ellen Bayne, Jerry McGuire, Benedict (Benny), Daniel, and Jewel. Some of them lived in the alley and a few in the house, but they have all taught me things. Here are a few pearls of wisdom they conveyed:
If you can’t get your way, lie across the keyboard until you do. (Be persistent.)
Keep them guessing with meows and long looks to keep their attention. (Mystery attracts.)
When you’re hungry, meow loudly so they feed you just to shut you up. (Get your needs met.)
Always find a good patch of sun to lie in. (Simple pleasures have their place.)
Life is hard and then you nap. (Be well-rested.)
Climb your way to the top; that’s why the curtains are there. (Be resourceful and creative.)
We are Siamese if you please. We are Siamese if you don’t please. (Be yourself.)
Purr often and use head-butts judiciously. (Express gratitude.)
Sleep on their clothes and personal items so as to leave your scent. (Forget-me-nots have their place.)
Use your litter box. (Be clean and polite.)
Be a mouser. (Earn your keep.)
Clown around and do silly stuff. (Be humble.)
Run around wildly for no apparent reason; chase toys and laser pointers. (Exercise often.)
Rest in hidden places. (Solitude has its place.)
The following list of things we can learn from dogs has been making the rounds on the Internet for years, but it really is rather instructive. Dogs do have a lot to teach us, and I thank God for the dogs to whom I have been close over the years: Prince, Missy, Molly, Taco, Salsa, Chili, Kaila, Lucy, Clancy, and many others. And again, although others compiled this second list, I can affirm through much experience how true it is!
Fifteen things we can learn from dogs:
Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joy ride.
Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.
When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
Let others know when they’ve invaded your territory.
Take naps and stretch before rising.
Run, romp, and play daily.
Eat with gusto and enthusiasm.
Be loyal.
If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.
When someone is having a bad day, be silent. Sit close by and nuzzle them gently.
Thrive on attention and let people touch you.
Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
When you’re happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
No matter how often you’re scolded, don’t buy into the guilt thing and pout. Instead, run right back and make friends.
Delight in the simple joys of a long walk.
Happy Feast of St. Francis!
All creatures of our God and king
Lift up your voice and with us sing,
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Adversity comes to every one of us. The word’s Latin roots speak to the way in which things can turn against us; the winds, instead of moving us along, turn toward and against us and our progress seems stalled or even reversed.
But has it? Or does adversity have a hidden, benign, or even good purpose?
Consider the following teach from St. Paul, which arose from his own adversity. He is in prison, yet writes this:
I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel, so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to all the rest that my imprisonment is for Christ. And most of the brothers, having become confident in the Lord by my imprisonment, are much more bold to speak the word without fear. … Yes, and I will rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and the help of the Spirit of Jesus Christ this will turn out for my deliverance, as it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death (Phil 1:12-14, 19-20).
One can hardly imagine a set of circumstances more adverse for a missionary on the move than to be confined to a prison cell, unable to preach freely. Nevertheless, with the Holy Spirit to teach him, St. Paul can say that what seems adverse has actually served to advance the Gospel. His willingness to suffer for the truth of the faith both gives him credibility and bestows boldness upon others.
By God’s grace, the most adverse and paradoxical of situations can bear fruit. The blood of martyrs is the seed of Christians. Find a place where the Church is being persecuted and you will find a place where she is growing. At the cross, Satan thought he could kill Christ and be done with Him, but instead, he released Christ’s full power. This is a lesson that seems to continually escape Satan and the world: God can make a way out of no way! When Satan does his worst, God releases the best.
What in our life has at the time seemed adverse but has actually turned out to be a blessing? It is important to reflect on this often because adversity takes an initial emotional toll. Discouragement, anger, fear, or depression can result if we do not quickly recall the paradox of the cross and God’s ability to write straight with the crooked lines of this word and to advance through even the strongest of headwinds. Adversity can help to clarify and strengthen. Persecution can purify us. Those who scoff at and challenge our beliefs can help us to clarify the truth even more. The lamp of truth is most precious and shines most gloriously in the deepest darkness.
While irksome, what seems adverse can still advance the cause of the Gospel. We need not desire adversity, but when it comes we should trust that God has permitted it, for a season and for a reason. If the greatest paradox of all, the cross, could release glory and open a way out of no way, so can our sufferings and adversities if we unite them to that cross.
Many fine histories exist on the life of St. Francis of Assisi so there is no need to replicate that information in this post. (Here is a recently published one that is particularly good.) As we prepare for the Memorial of St. Francis of Assisi (Oct. 4), let’s reflect on a few lessons from his life.
1. On the possibility of radical conversion and the role of affliction and humiliation – The son of a successful cloth merchant, St. Francis enjoyed a very affluent, easy life growing up and partook of the permissiveness of the times. He was a natural leader and drew to himself a crowd of young people who spent their nights in wild parties. His biographer, Thomas of Celano, wrote this of him: “He attracted to himself a whole retinue of young people addicted to evil and accustomed to vice.” Francis had visions of grandeur and became a knight. Perhaps the horrors of battle and a year as a prisoner of war began a gradual conversion in him. The Fourth Crusade was called in 1205 and Francis impulsively bought new armor and sallied forth. He turned back, however, perhaps as a result of his own anxiety, and more surely due to a vision he had in which God rebuked his manner of life. When he returned home, Francis was derided as a coward and suffered the great anger of his father.
This crisis in Francis’ life ultimately led to his conversion—and a dramatic one at that. The Book of Psalms says, Before I was afflicted I strayed. But now I have kept your word, O Lord (Psalms 119:67). We all know people whose conversion seems unlikely, but God may yet humble them and draw them to conversion. Further, we ought never to underestimate the fact that affliction and humiliation may be necessary components of conversion for many of us. At times we may feel as though God has abandoned us or others whom we love. In fact, He may be doing some very important work. Our greatest enemy is pride and our best friend is humility. Humility and affliction may be gifts in strange packages. Learn to trust in God’s ways, painful though they may sometimes be. God may be drawing us to deeper conversion.
2. On the freedom of poverty and simplicity – Francis and his early companions embraced a life of radical poverty. So severe was this poverty that some thought them mad and rebuked them as irrational. To this, St. Francis responded, If we had any possessions we should need weapons and laws to defend them. One hagiographer wrote, Possessing something was the death of love for Francis. Also, Francis reasoned, what could you do to a man who owns nothing? You can’t starve a fasting man, you can’t steal from someone who has no money, you can’t ruin someone who hates prestige. They were truly free [1]. Not all of us may be able to embrace such severe poverty due to our obligations to others. More and more, though, we ought to experience a growing simplicity of life that frees us from the power of this world. Poverty and simplicity are powerful and fruitful gifts of God. They, too, are gifts in strange packages. If we can learn to embrace them, we will discover greater freedom.
3. On the Love of God’s Church and how reform is best accomplished – During St. Francis’ lifetime the Church was in need of reform. Greed, worldliness, and scandal were problems among both the clergy and laity. Heresies were abundant. Some, noting sin in the Church, chose to hate the Church and leave her. Others, like Francis, heard the call of God, who never ceases to love His Church; they intensified their love for the Church and worked for her reform. In a vision, St. Francis sensed this call from God: “Francis, repair my Church.” Gradually he deepened his understanding of the Lord’s call and began that reform by seeing first to his own life.
It is possible for critics of the Church to decry the sins of others yet not see their own. Francis began in the vineyard of his own life and then went forth, gently preaching conversion to his neighbors through personal example. The movement for reform spread. It was a grassroots effort; it was personal. Within ten years there were more than 5,000 men in Francis’ community; the Poor Clares (which he founded with St. Clare of Assisi) were also growing.
True reform begins with us. Simply denouncing the sins of others or of the Church, real though they may be, seldom has lasting effect. The best reform starts with personal conversion. Personal conversion spreads to others and then reform is underway. It works. If we allow God to set us on fire, then we can spread that fire.
4. On unity with all creation and the gift of wonder and awe – St. Francis thought of nature—all of God’s creation—as part of his brotherhood. In some sense, the sparrow was as much his brother as was the Pope.
There is a tendency today among some in the radical environmental movement to see man as the enemy of the natural world rather than an integral part of it, to view man as an outsider with respect to the natural world rather than as a partaker and member of it. For St. Francis, though, there was brotherhood.
In brotherhood there are legitimate needs we satisfy for one another. Nature supplies us and we in turn help to perfect nature. We have done this in our best moments by helping to increase the yield of our fields and bringing far greater bounty to the earth through advances in agriculture and animal husbandry. We also seek to master disease and push back the destructive boundaries of what is unruly in nature (e.g., infestation). Although we have often transgressed through unnecessary pollution, in the end we are not the enemies of nature but companions and brethren to the natural world.
St. Francis can help us to find this balance. He surely exhibited a sense of gratitude for God’s creation and a deep wonder and awe at all that God has given. We, too, ought to develop a deep appreciation for the beauty of God’s work and we should reverence our very selves as a part of that creation.
5. On the Need to Evangelize the Muslim World – We may think that the struggle with the Muslim world is new, but it is not. In his life, St. Francis decided to go to Syria to convert the Moslems (the preferred term until about 1940) while the Fifth Crusade was being fought. In the middle of a battle, Francis decided to do the simplest thing and go directly to the sultan, Melek-el Kamel, in order to make peace. He and his companion were captured and Francis was taken to the sultan. Francis challenged the Moslem scholars to a true test of religion by fire, but they refused. Francis proposed to enter the fire first, under the condition that if he left the fire unharmed, the sultan would have to recognize Christ as true God. Although the sultan turned down the challenge, he was so impressed that he allowed Francis to preach to his subjects. While Francis did not succeed in converting him, the sultan’s last words to Francis were these: Pray for me that God may deign to reveal to me that law and faith which is most pleasing to him. This work of Francis’ and his attempted rapprochement with the Moslem world had far reaching consequences, long past his own death: after the fall of the Crusader Kingdom, it was the Franciscans, of all Catholics, who were allowed to stay on in the Holy Land and were recognized as “Custodians of the Holy Land” on behalf of Christianity [2].
Today, with the emergence of extremist forms of Islam, we need more than ever to have the courage of St. Francis to engage the Muslim world and try to bring them to Christ. It may be difficult work and successes may be few at this stage, but God calls us to be faithful, not necessarily successful. Ultimately, success is up to God. We who are Catholics have a special role in this evangelization because the Muslim world shares with us a respect for Mary, Mother of Jesus our Lord. I’ll elaborate more on that point in a future post.
This first video below attempts to capture the magnificence of creation. It is set to the hymn “All Creatures of Our God and King,” whose lyrics are based on a poem by St. Francis known as “The Canticle of the Sun” (Canticum Fratris Solis (Canticle of Brother Sun)).
Here is a video of a dog whose owner taught him to pray!
There was an important passage in the Gospel for Saturday’s Mass (Saturday of the 25th Week of the Year). It displays the human tendency to filter out or ignore what we do not want to hear.
Jesus had been casting out demons. We then read,
While they were all amazed at his every deed, Jesus said to his disciples, “Pay attention to what I am telling you. The Son of Man is to be handed over to men.” But they did not understand this saying; its meaning was hidden from them so that they should not understand it, and they were afraid to ask him about this saying (Luke 9:43-45).
Note that Jesus admonishes them to pay attention. These strong words highlight the human tendency to be inattentive to what the Lord is telling us. In the Greek text, the construction is even more intense (Θέσθε ὑμεῖς εἰς τὰ ὦτα ὑμῶν τοὺς λόγους τούτους). Here is the literal translation of the Greek: Let sink you into the ears of you the words of these. The repetition of the word “you” has the effect of saying: “Hey, you! Pay attention to what I’m telling you! Yeah, I’m talking to you!”
So the Lord wants our attention. He wants us to listen closely, word for word, to what He is about to tell us. What is He going to tell us? He is going to tell us about the cross; and we don’t want to hear it. In effect we say, “Tell us about anything but the cross, Jesus. Tell us about how much you love us, that you are our shepherd, that you are going to open Heaven. Tell us how you will destroy our enemies and Satan, but don’t tell us about the cross you will endure or that we must share in it! We don’t want to hear about sacrifice—yours or ours. We don’t want hear about our need to repent or to change.”
Add to this tendency the historical context wherein the Jews expected the Messiah to be a conquering warlord, not a suffering servant. The Messiah would mow down the Romans by the sword and drown them in their own blood. He would usher in an era of prosperity and restore the Kingdom of David in all its glory. Peter and the others were thinking of a place in the palace, of being heads in the new Government. They were thinking of power and prestige, of a corner office with a commanding view.
On hearing of a suffering servant (cf Isaiah 53) the disciples just tuned out; their eyes glazed over and they seemed incapable of processing the plain meaning of the words The Son of Man is to be handed over to men. Their minds were closed to this truth or they rationalized it as mere hyperbole or some highly unlikely possibility.
That is why Jesus says to them and to us, “Pay attention!”
Are we paying attention? Do we think that the Christian life is merely to be a pleasant one without the need of dying in order to rise with Christ (2 Cor 4:10)? Do we think we can avoid going to Jerusalem to die with Jesus (Jn 11:16), to suffer with Him outside the gate (Hebrews 13:12)? Do we think He was just exaggerating when He said that the world would hate us (Mat 24:9, Jn 15:19), that we would have tribulation, that we would be hauled into court (Lk 21:12), that some in our very families would turn against us (Lk 12:53)?
Too easily we tune out emotionally and intellectually. We dismiss these admonitions as unlikely for us, or at least an exaggeration. Our eyes glaze over we become sluggish about listening.
The text goes on to say that the meaning of Jesus’ words was hidden from them(notice the use of the passive voice). This translation may be too passive, however. The Greek παρακεκαλυμμένον (parakekalummenon) is a perfect participle translated as “veiled” or “hidden” but it is actually in the middle voice. The middle voice is in between the passive and the active voices and indicates some cooperation by the person who is acted upon. Thus, while the meaning may be hidden or veiled in some sense, the disciples cooperate in keeping it veiled; they want to keep it this way. They will not ask questions or even try to understand the teaching because it is paradoxical and threatening to them.
This is true for us as well. Often, when we sense something difficult or challenging in a teaching we fail to pursue any clarification. Our philosophy seems to be this: Ask not, lest you be answered (in a way you don’t like)! We feign ignorance with difficult or challenging teachings. We are forgetful or dull of hearing.
Much of this is attributable to our human weakness. Somewhere, I hear the Lord saying to us, especially regarding the controversial and difficult teachings of our day, “Pay attention to what I am saying to you. Are you listening?”
Photo credit: Jaclyn Lippelmann, Catholic Standard
Red Mass Homily
Most Reverend José H. Gomez
Archbishop of Los Angeles
Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle
Washington, D.C.
October 1, 2017
My dear brothers and sisters,
I am so honored to be with you this morning. I bring you greetings from the family of God in Los Angeles, the City of the Angels.
The Church in Los Angeles is the largest Catholic community in the country. We are a global church, an immigrant church, made up of people who come from all over the world. We have about 5 million Catholics in L.A. and every day, we pray and worship and we serve in more than 40 different languages.
The Franciscan missionaries who founded Los Angeles named our city for the Mother of God, the Queen of the Angels.
One of those missionaries was St. Junípero Serra, our newest American saint. St. Junípero was Hispanic, a migrant from Spain, and he entered this country after living for more than a decade in Mexico.
In his time, there were many in the California colonial government who denied the full humanity of the indigenous peoples living in this land. St. Junípero became their champion. He even wrote a “bill of rights” to protect them. And by the way — he wrote that bill of rights — three years before America’s Declaration of Independence.
Most Americans do not know this history. But Pope Francis does.
That is why, when the Holy Father came to this country in 2015, his first act was to hold a solemn Mass where he canonized St. Junípero. He held that Mass — not in Los Angeles, but right here in the nation’s capital.
Pope Francis was making a point. He believes we should honor St. Junípero as “one of the founding fathers of the United States.”
I agree. I think we should, too. Because remembering St. Junípero and the first missionaries changes how we remember our national story. It reminds us that America’s first beginnings were not political. America’s first beginnings were spiritual.
The missionaries came here first — long before the Pilgrims, long before George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. Long before this country even had a name.
These missionaries — together with the colonists and the statesmen who came later — they laid the spiritual and intellectual groundwork for a nation that remains unique in human history. A nation conceived under God and committed to promoting human dignity, freedom and the flourishing of a diversity of peoples, races, ideas and beliefs.
That is why this national Red Mass is so important each year. There is a time for politics and a time for prayer. This is a day for prayer.
We acknowledge today, as America’s founders did — that this is still one nation under God; that his laws still govern the world we live in; and that we go forward still “with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence.”
We ask the Holy Spirit today to open our hearts and help us to see our duties — in the light of God’s Word, in the light of his plans for creation.
The first reading we heard this morning, the story of that first Pentecost — reveals the Creator’s beautiful dream for the human race.
As we heard, there were men and women there in Jerusalem — from “every nation under heaven.” And the Spirit of God spoke to all of them in their own “native tongues.”
Pentecost is the “birthday” of the Church and the first day of her mission. And the mission that Jesus gave her is the beautiful mission of gathering all the peoples of the earth into one family of God.
In God’s eyes, there are no foreigners, there are no strangers! All of us are family. When God looks at us, he sees beyond the color of our skin, or the countries where we come from, or the language that we speak. God sees only his children — sons and daughters made in his image.
My brothers and sisters, the truth is this: Before God made the sun and the moon, before he placed the first star in the sky or started to fill the oceans with water — before the foundation of the world — God knew your name and my name. And he had a plan of love for our lives.
Every life is sacred and every life has a purpose in God’s creation! Every one of us is born for greater things. This is not just a beautiful-sounding idea. This is what Jesus Christ came to teach us! And we are still trying to learn it.
The people who wrote this country’s laws and formed our institutions — they understood this teaching. They understood it so well that they called these truths “self-evident.”
America’s founders believed that the only justification for government is to serve the human person — who is created in God’s image; who is endowed with God-given dignity, rights and responsibilities; and who is called by God to a transcendent destiny.
My brothers and sisters, you all share in the responsibility for this great government. Public service is a noble vocation. It takes honesty and courage. It takes prudence and humility. And it takes prayer and sacrifice.
So today, let us ask the Holy Spirit for his gifts and renew our commitment to this vision of a government that serves the human person.
Let us commit ourselves to an America that cares for the young and the elderly, for the poor and the sick; an America where the hungry find bread and the homeless a place to live; an America that welcomes the immigrant and refugee and offers the prisoner a second chance.
Of course, we can always talk about the ways our nation has failed to live up to its founding vision. From the start, Americans have engaged in passionate arguments about these things, and these conversations are vital to our democracy.
From the original sins of slavery and the cruel mistreatment of native peoples, to our struggles today with racism and nativism — the American dream is still a work in progress.
We have come a long way. But we have not come nearly far enough. That should not make us give in to cynicism or despair. For all our weakness and failure: America is still a beacon of hope for peoples of every nation, who look to this country for refuge, for freedom and equality under God.
Throughout our history, men and women of faith have always led movements for justice and social change.
I am thinking of the efforts to abolish slavery and to give women the right to vote. I am thinking of the civil rights movement, the farmworkers movement, the peace movement and the right-to-life movement. It was a book by a Catholic Worker that helped launch the “war on poverty” in the 1960s.
This is why religious freedom is so essential to who we are as Americans. We should never silence the voices of believers. They connect us to our founders’ vision. Today more than ever, we need their spirit of peacemaking and searching for nonviolent solutions.
In the Gospel passage that we heard this morning, Jesus comes to his disciples, he shows them his wounds, and then he “breathes” on them.
What we are witnessing in this scene — is a new creation.
In the beginning, the Creator formed man and woman in his own image. And then, the Book of Genesis tells us, God “blew into his nostrils the breath of life.”
In this passage we heard this morning, Jesus comes to create a new humanity — a new people formed in the image of his forgiveness and made alive by the power of his Spirit.
This scene is rich in meaning. When Jesus breathes on his disciples and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained” — yes, he is giving his Church the power to forgive sins in his name.
But more than that, he is giving every one of us — the power to forgive those who trespass against us.
And that power to forgive — it is the greatest power that men and women possess under heaven. If only we could understand that! Because when we forgive, we are imitating Jesus Christ.
The power to grant forgiveness and show mercy is the image of God. In many ways, to forgive is what makes us fully human.
My brothers and sisters, let me conclude by suggesting that forgiveness is part of the unfinished revolution in American society.
Forgiveness does not mean forgetting what has happened or excusing what is wrong; it does not mean ignoring what divides us.
True forgiveness sets us free from the cycles of resistance and retaliation; it sets us free to seek reconciliation and healing.
And this is what we need in America today — a new spirit of compassion and cooperation, a new sense of our common humanity.
We need to treat “others” as our brothers and our sisters. Even those who oppose or disagree with us. The mercy and love that we desire — this is the mercy and love that we must show to our neighbors.
May God bless you all for your service to this great country! And may God bless America!
And may Our Blessed Mother Mary, help us all to renew the promise of America. To commit ourselves once again to the truths that our founders entrusted to us.
In understanding Sunday’s Gospel, we cannot overlook the audience Jesus was addressing. The text begins, Jesus said to the chief priests and elders of the people …. In other words, He was addressing the religious leaders and religiously observant of His day. He calls at least three things to their attention, three common sins of the pious, if you will: lost connections, leaping to conclusions and lip service.
Let’s look at each of these in turn, remembering that although they are not exclusive to the religiously observant, they are considered in that context. Let’s also learn how they are particularly problematic when it comes to our mandate to hand on the faith through evangelization.
I. Lost Connections
The text says, A man had two sons. It goes on to describe these two sons as very different yet also quite similar. The man, of course, is God; we are the sons. Although we are all very different, we all have the same Father and we all have sin. A man had two sons is another way of saying that the sons had the same father. Yes, we all have a connection we cannot deny, whatever our differences.
Why emphasize this? Because it is too easy for us to try to sever the link we have with one another, to effect a kind of divorce from people we fear or do not like. For example, on the way to Mass we may drive past tough parts of town and see drug dealers, prostitutes, groups of young men loitering near liquor stores, and other outwardly troubled or rebellious people. It is easy to be cynical and say, “Some people’s children!” or “Look at that; how awful.” Or we may simply ignore them. Yet in doing this we fail to recall that these are my brothers and sisters. So easily we can dismiss them, write them off, separate ourselves from them. But God may have a question for us: “Where is your brother?” (Gen 4:9)
Yes, there are many people whom we try to disown. Perhaps they are of a different political party, economic class, or race. Perhaps we just don’t like them. We divide, but God unites. A man had two sons. Yes, they were different, but he was father to them both; he loved them both. He spoke to them and called them his sons.
In terms of evangelization, remember that Jesus sent us to all the nations. No longer were Israel and the Gentiles to be separated, the one considered chosen people and the other not. Hence the Church is catholic, universal, seeking to unite all. A man had two sons, but the two sons had one father. In seeking to evangelize, has it ever occurred to you that the least likely member of your family could be the one whom God most wants you to reach? Be careful of lost connections, for souls can be lost.
II. Leaping to Conclusions
A second “sin of the pious” is leaping to the conclusion that someone is irredeemably lost, writing someone. Many of the Scribes and Pharisees, the religiously observant of their day, had done just this with a large segment of the population. Rather than to going out and working among them to preach the Word and to teach the observance of the Law, many of them simply labeled the crowds “sinners” and dismissed them as lost. In fact, they were shocked that Jesus “welcomed sinners and ate with them” (e.g., Lk 15:2). In effect, Jesus says to them, “Not so fast. Don’t leap to conclusions or write anyone off. Sick people need a doctor. I have come to be their divine physician and to heal many of them.”
Thus Jesus, in today’s parable, speaks of a sinner who repents: [The Father] came to the first and said, “Son, go out and work in the vineyard today.” He said in reply, “I will not,” but afterwards changed his mind and went.
The point is that we just don’t know about people. We should be very careful not to write people off, even those who appear to be locked in very serious and sinful patterns or who seem to be hostile to God. The example of St. Paul should certainly give us hope, as should that of St. Augustine. St. Augustine wrote well on the fact that we just don’t know how things will turn out with people.
For what man can judge rightly concerning another? Our whole daily life is filled with rash judgments. He of whom we had despaired is converted suddenly and becomes very good. He from whom we had expected a great deal fails and becomes very bad. Neither our fear nor our hope is certain. What any man is today, that man scarcely know. Still in some way he does know. What he will be tomorrow however, he does not know (Sermo 46, 25).
Scripture also says, The oppressed often rise to a throne, and some that none would consider, wear a crown. The exalted often fall into utter disgrace; … Call no man happy before his death, for by how he ends, a man is known (Sirach 11:5-6, 28).
I man I knew (now deceased) once told me his story: He was raised in the Church, got all his Sacraments, went to Church regularly, and was a God-fearing man. In his early forties, though, he descended into alcoholism, began to be unfaithful to his wife, stopped going to Church, and was dismissive of God. Were you or I to have seen him at that time, we might easily have concluded that he was too far gone. When he was in his early sixties, he knows not how (except that someone must have been praying for him) but he pulled out of his rebellion and reentered the vineyard. He sought help for his drinking problem and reconciled with his wife and children. Daily mass, weekly confession, daily rosary, and Stations of the Cross—yes, when he returned, he really returned. He said to me that he had done a lot of sinning and so now it was time to do a lot of praying, to make up for lost time, as he put it. He died a penitent in the bosom of the Church.
You just never know. Don’t write anyone off. Nothing stabs evangelization in the heart more than the presumption that someone is an unlikely candidate for conversion. Keep praying and keep working. Jesus tells us the story of a son who told his father to “buzz off,” but later repented and went into the vineyard. Pray, hope, and work. You just never know. Don’t give up.
Don’t think that anyone is a permanent member of the vineyard, either. Pray, hope, and work even for those who seem well within in the vineyard, even for your own salvation. We all know of former parishioners, even leaders, who later drifted from the faith. St. Paul spoke of how he had a kind of sober vigilance about his own salvation: But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified (1 Cor 9:27).
III. Lip Service
The text says, The man came to the other son and gave the same order. He said in reply, “Yes, sir,” but did not go.
Consider the second son. He is respectful to his father. When told to go into the vineyard he tells his father that he will do so. He would not dream of cursing his father or addressing him in a strident way. You might say that he was outwardly respectful and religiously observant—a decent sort of fellow.
In the end, though, he doesn’t get around to going to the vineyard. For whatever reason, his obedience to his father was only cursory. His lack of follow-through demonstrates a great danger to the religiously observant: giving God “lip service.” Yes, we will praise the Lord, sing a hymn, shout Hallelujah, and say Amen on Sunday, but come Monday will we obey and go to the vineyard of obedience? Will we forgive those who have wronged us? Will we show generosity to the poor? Will we be chaste and compassionate? Will we love our spouse and children? Will we speak the truth in love, evangelize, and act as God’s prophets?
The greatest sadness of all is that it is our very religious observance (a good and commanded thing to be sure) that often blinds us to our wider disobedience. It is easy (and too common) for the religiously observant person to reduce the faith to rituals and, once the rituals are observed, to check off the “God box.” In effect saying or thinking, “OK, I’ve gone to Mass, paid my tithes, said a few Amens and praised the Lord by singing. Now I’m done.”
“Lip-service Christians” are terrible witnesses and a real blow to evangelization because they are so easy to spot. How on earth can we ever hope to win souls for Christ if people can see that we are just going through the motions, but living lives that are unreformed, and untransformed? Our greatest witness must be a life that is being changed by Jesus Christ, a life that manifests the biblical principles of love, justice, charity, forgiveness, mercy, generosity, and a biblical understanding of sexuality; a life that shows we have a renewed mind and heart.
Now none of us do this perfectly, but pray that God’s transformative power is at work in us and that people can see it in us. There is little that is more destructive to evangelization than phony, lip-service Christians, who give the outward appearance of obedience and religiosity but with no substance behind it. Nothing is more helpful to evangelization than Christians who show lives that are being transformed and made more joyful, serene, and holy.
All of this leads to the title of today’s post: “God can use anything, but He shouldn’t have to.” In other words, although none of us are perfect disciples and God can work through us no matter what—He shouldn’t have to do that.
So in today’s Gospel Jesus points out three powerful obstacles to His grace flowing through us to others: lost connections, leaping to conclusions, and lip service. All of these things lessen our effectiveness as disciples, prophets, and evangelizers sent out to make disciples of all the nations.
The commercial below is a humorous illustration of the clash of cultures. As the scene opens, we see a formally clad orchestra performing the famed Brandenburg Concerto. The focus then shifts to a percussionist at the back of the orchestra. The man proceeds to bring the entire orchestra to a halt by engaging in a wild solo reminiscent of the excesses of a 20th century rock guitarist.
