"Good" or "Good Enough?"

Here’s a question for you to consider in your own prayer and reflection this week: 

“Am I a good Christian?”

For anyone who takes their faith seriously, this should be a basic question, and I assume the answer that most of us would sincerely give is “Yes.” But let’s think about it for a while. What makes a “good Christian?”

I know what makes a good cook or a good tennis player or a good teacher. Why do I know this? I have criteria that I use to measure these things. So, for the Christian, what are the criteria that mark him or her as “good?”

I consider myself a “good” cook. However, there are times when I am preparing a meal and I go just too far with the ingredients (I never really measure), and the vodka sauce or steaks are no longer “perfect.” However, I do deem them “good enough,” and I finish. Why do I do this? Well, it's usually because I lack either the ingredients or the time to “fix” it, and I am also hungry. So, “good enough” will do.

Do you see where I am going? Are we “good” or more often “good enough?”

Today, Jesus gives us the criteria – or rather, the criterion. In John, this is His only explicit “commandment.” He says, “I give you a new commandment: Love one another. As I have loved you, so must you also love one another.”

Love is the measure.

Why is this a “new commandment,” though? It isn’t as though the disciples didn’t love one another. It’s not that we don’t love one another and other. What is new about the command is not the act itself but the type of love Jesus is commanding. “As I have loved you…” The love of Jesus is self-giving; it is sacrificial; it is unconditional.

This is the measure of the Christian: how do we imitate Christ in our love of one another? We can certainly see this love between husbands and wives and parents and children; but what about those who wear on our nerves, or those who have hurt us? Do we love them, as Christ commands us? If not, can we really call ourselves “good” Christians – or are we merely being “good enough?”

I don’t ask this to indict anyone. God knows, I have my struggles with this too. However, as a faith community – as a Catholic Christian community – we are not served when our members harbor grudges or even hatred against each other. When members of our community throw harsh words back and forth at each other, we are not a “good” Christian community. When we exclude others because they are different, we are not “good” Christians. When we spend more time and effort in pointing out others’ faults than in correcting our own and loving others, we are not “good” Christians.

"But father," some say, "I do so well in so many other areas. This just seems to be my particular cross." If that is true, friends, then we must bear that cross as Jesus did: with love. Jesus reminds us today that we are active advertisements of His love.

The way people will know we are Christians is not in what we say (i.e., “I’m a good Christian”) or in the Rosary hanging from our rear view mirror, or the fish stuck on the bumper, or even the nice Facebook posts that circulate. The way they will know we are Christians, Jesus says, is that we have love for one another. I don’t want you to be “good enough.” We are selling ourselves short if we are. I want you to be like Jesus, who doesn’t just “ask” or “suggest” this to us. He commands us to love one another. So, pray about that this week. Am I a “good” Christian? Take time each day to consider the answer, and God’s grace will pour into your hearts.

And that’s good enough for anyone!

Who is Your Shepherd?

I have two younger brothers, Kevin and Brian.  As an oldest brother, it has been a joy for me to watch and reflect on how they have grown into the fine men that they are, but when they we younger it was especially fun to see Brian idolize Kevin.  Kevin is six years older than Brian, but Brian always wanted to do what Kevin and his friends were doing.  This is typical "little brother" behavior.  Kevin was playing baseball; Brian wanted to play.  Kevin and his friends traded baseball cards; Brian wanted to as well.  They had a comic book club; Brian wanted to belong.  In fact, once, Kevin and his friends established a rule to keep Brian out.  He had to draw the "Batman" logo to get in.  I recall little Brian crying because of this prohibition, and my mother sat him down and drew the logo herself.  Kev and his friends had to let him in.

The relationship between brothers is great - a love/hate relationship that, if done right, can lead to great friendship in adulthood (as it has with my brothers and me).

During this past week, I watched like all of you the events in Boston and struggled to make sense of them.  As the days went on and we learned more about the suspects, we found out that they, too, we brothers.  I am still struck by the grainy, jerky surveillance footage of the older brother walking through the crowd, followed closely by his little brother.  In light of this weekend's Gospel, it was a dark parallel to the Shepherd image.

I don't doubt that these brothers loved each other - that there was a tender and committed affection between them, just like my brothers.  Without judging their motives, I can totally understand the younger brother's desire to follow his big brother.  Unfortunately, he chose a poor shepherd.

That leads me to a question, especially considering this weekend of "Good Shepherd Sunday."  Who is your shepherd?

Now, Scripture is full of tender images of shepherds and sheep as a metaphor of God and His guidance of His People.  Jesus is the Good Shepherd, who "knows his sheep."  "My sheep hear my voice," He says today, "and they follow me."  We can dutifully quote the 23rd Psalm and say, "The Lord is my Shepherd, there is nothing I shall want..." and in our Psalm response today we declare, "We are His people, the sheep of His flock."

However, that is almost rote for us.  Practically speaking, who is your shepherd?

The shepherd decides when the sheep will get up and go out.  He decides where they will graze and where they will not. He keeps them together, and at the end of the day, he decides when they will return home.

What drives us?  What decides what we will do?  How we act?  How we speak?  With whom we relate?  Is it fashion?  Sports? Music? TV? Video games?  Restaurants? Fame? Fortune? Comfort?

There are so many shepherds out there vying for our loyalty.  So many shepherd, especially, looking for our young people's love - and they follow.  We must pray for them; pray for our youth, that they may hear - be able to hear - the voice of the one Shepherd who actually promises life, and life in abundance.  The other shepherds might fill a void for a while, but they don't love their sheep.

The young, idealistic bomber in Boston chose his shepherd.  He chose poorly, and many people - including himself - have been hurt.  That is not life in abundance.

We pray that we - our families, friends, youth and neighbors - may be able to hear the voice of the true Shepherd who leads us to the Father - to that fullness of life that sets us in a pasture of peace.

The "S" Stands for Hope

In June, the newest "Superman" film will open (June 14, for those of you wanting to sit in a movie theater hallway at midnight).  While I am not sure I appreciate the proliferation of redone iterations of classic superhero movies (what number "Batman" are we on now? - and didn't the last "SpiderMan" come out, like, just three years after the one before that?), I can accept the fact that these characters are part of our American mythology.  Superman is a favorite, and I will go see this one.

However, the idea of the Superman finds its origin in the "Ubermensch" of the atheistic philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche.  Nietzsche proposed this ideal human being, this superman who rises above all others because of his self-will and ability to create values for himself in a God-less world.  Nietzsche, an atheist who posited the "death of God," held the Ubermensch up as the perfect human who fulfills our natural destiny.

All that philosophy aside, Superman has evolved in our "Christian" society as another Christological example.  He comes to Earth, having been sent by his father, and would be regarded as a god - but also opposed by evil.  He shows humanity our own greatness, though.  Watch this latest trailer - and keep your faith switched on - it will speak to you loudly!

His adoptive father tells him that he might spend the rest of his life discovering his purpose - and in this, as in most Christ figures, we should also see ourselves.  But as Superman, "he will give the people of Earth an ideal to strive for.  They will stumble; they will fall.  But in time, they will join him in the sun."

Jesus is more than just some "ideal," though.  It is He who makes our greatness possible.  We are modeled on Him but the Father.  As St. Paul says, "He is before all else that is.  All were created through him; all were created for him" (Col 1:17ff).  We are all "supermen" (and women!), in Christ.  The Father has sent His Son - for us - so that we become adopted sons and daughters in Christ. In time, he will help us accomplish wonders.

Watch Out for Buddy Jesus

The gospel this weekend gives us the charming scene of Jesus and Peter by the sea, wherein Jesus commissions Peter to "Feed my sheep."  In that scene, Jesus asks Peter three times "Do you love me?"  We read these questions and responses as identical - Jesus asks three times if Peter loves him, as if Jesus isn't really sure or doesn't think Peter is sincere.  However, there is a deeper meaning here.  First, as Augustine notes, these threefold questions are meant to undo Peter's threefold denial of Christ during the Passion.  However, an understanding of the original Greek is helpful in conveying the true point of this selection.

When Jesus asks Peter "Do you love me?" the first two times, he uses a form of the Greek word agape.  This is the Gospel sense of love, which implies a love that suffers for another, that gives of itself for others.  This is the love of Christ, the love of God.  Peter, however, in responding "You know that I love you" does not answer with that same word, agape.  Rather, he uses another Greek word for love, phileo.  While this means "love" technically, it is not the same connotation as agape.  This is brotherly love, or the love of friendship.  Peter, clearly, is not ready for that self-sacrificing love; but, as Jesus notes, he will be.  So, the third time Jesus asks "Do you love me?" he uses Peter's phileo.  Perhaps it is this condescension that truly hurts Peter's feelings, rather than the fact that Jesus asked again.

This play on the word "love" is helpful for us as disciples.  Clearly, Jesus wants agape from His followers.  The phileo of Peter is akin to a guy slugging his buddy on the arm and saying, "I love you, man!"  It is affection, but not committed affection.  In a sense, Peter is referring to "Buddy Jesus."  He is nice to have around, but when he starts raiding your fridge you might want Him to leave for a while.

Jesus doesn't want to be our Buddy; He wants to be our Beloved.  This exchange with Peter indicates that he will accept the former, but only with the hope - the Godly hope - that we grow in that love and become truly committed disciples, grounded in self-giving Love.

Jesus knows that Peter will grow like this.  As he describes what the future holds for His dear friend, He is describing Peter's ultimate witness of love, by which "he would glorify God."

So, hang on to "Buddy Jesus."  But realize that while He hangs out with you, He will be asking for things - for sacrifices - for Love.  And He knows that this relationship with worth being kept at arm's distance for a while, even as we punch Him and say, "I love you, man."  He will respond, "I know.  Now let's order some pizza.

"And you're paying."

Look at Us

The Acts of the Apostles details the growth of the Church following the Ascension and Pentecost, and we read from this book every day of the Easter season.  It's worth our attention - and a good practice for the Easter season would be to prayerfully read the entire book - come on, you have fifty days!

Today, Peter and John are seen going to the Temple to pray.  They encounter a man who is crippled and begging near the door.  It's a common scene in any big city: the poor, homeless, unemployed, down-trodden, asking for spare change.  We can probably place ourselves in Peter and John's sandals today.  But Peter doesn't have any money.  I find myself in the same situation often, and when at an intersection, I sheepishly shrug when the poor come to my window.

But, rather than a shrug or money carelessly tossed in the man's direction, Peter does something different.  He looks intently at him talks to him.

"Look at us," he says.

And the man "paid attention to him."  Then - and only then - does he receive what he truly needs: healing and wholeness.  And it all started with two people paying attention to one another.

Here is our lesson in discipleship.  Perhaps we are not blessed with the means to financially assist those in need around us.  However, all of us have been given the gift of relationally.  When we encounter those poor, down-trodden and marginalized in our days, we don't need to see them as uncomfortable interruptions to our trips.  Rather, smile.  Say hello.

Notice them!

It's God who can give them what they need - not us.  And in connecting, even for a brief moment, we show forth the light of a disciple, and that blessing is always returned.

"He is Not Here. He has Been Raised"

Regardless of which year we are in, all the Gospels for this Easter Vigil contain two identical phrases. These two phrases are key to our life as Christians. I’ll start with the second one first:

“He has been raised.”

This is the original Easter message: “Christ is risen!” And this is what Christians from that first Easter morning, beginning with these women, have proclaimed to the ends of the earth. The One who suffered and died on the Cross for our sins, the One who took on Himself all that we are in our humanity, the One who was laid in the tomb and sealed with the stone – He is risen! Alleluia!

The joy of Easter consists in the fact that with the Resurrection of Jesus, our hope for eternal life now dawns. We, too, are called to this resurrection; and, in fact, we already share in it through our Baptism. As Saint Paul boldly proclaims in the Epistle, “We who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death. … so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might have newness of life.”

Tonight, two of our members will enter those waters of Baptism and become that new creation – not only sharing Christ’s death but sharing His Resurrection as well. In the Sacrament of Confirmation that we will then celebrate with our candidates, the Holy Spirit will seal them – as we have been – to then go forth and proclaim the Risen Lord to the world.

“He has been raised.”

This Easter proclamation should echo forever in the ears of every Christian – that sin and death, so prevalent in our world, so consuming in their power to frighten, these no longer bear the power to control us again. When life feels difficult and unbearable, and we think that there is no hope left, we hear it: “He has been raised!” When our communities are in turmoil, and violence, drugs and disillusion seem the order of the day, we hear it: “He has been raised!” When the world appears to be at its end, with nation rising against nation, the poor are ignored, and innocents suffer unjustly, we know this is not the end: “He has been raised!”

This is our Easter mantra – this is what gets the Christian – the disciple – out of bed in the morning and what drives them through the day. For we cannot rest until we know that others know that simple, good news: “He has been raised!”

The second phrase that the gospels share is a little less exciting, on the surface:

“He is not here.”

That’s right! He is not here!

The One whom the women sought to anoint and mourn was gone. The first sign of Easter for them was not a colored egg or a cute bunny. It was an empty tomb.

And what was their response? They ran to the others to share that news – as new Easter disciples, they brought the news to the bewildered Apostles: “He is not here; he is risen!”

The news seemed like “nonsense” to the others, but Peter reacts to their announcement by running to see for himself. What joy animated these women that they ran back to us? What on earth has happened now? Could it be true?

And at the tomb, Peter sees for himself: “He is not here.”

Brothers and sisters, Jesus Christ is risen today! Our victory over sin and death is won. We are now made disciples with a definite mission: share this news with the world.

He may not be here, but we are! His life now animates us, and where we are, He is too! This is the mystery of the Church – the presence of Christ, shared by His disciples wherever we gather to proclaim Him. Where will you proclaim that news today?

As a family, gathered at your Easter feasts, proclaim it together: “Christ is risen! He is truly risen!” Let the way we live show forth the fact that we believe the message we celebrate. That is the mark of the disciple. When we proclaim that Christ is alive, that He is not there in the tomb but risen, we remind others that there is more to this life than meets the eye. We share the light of Christ – as we do this night – and that light is never dimmed, even when shared with all. God is at work, even in the most desperate of times, and He transforms emptiness into the fullness of joy.

Tonight, on this holy night, we are happy witnesses of an empty tomb. But that emptiness is not a mark of absence, as if Christ abandoned us. Rather, it is a reminder that the tomb cannot hold the life that God gives – the life we receive here, now. May we live that life to the fullest, and proudly proclaim that Easter message: “He is not here. He is risen!”

Alleluia!

Witness

While we are rightly focused on what happens to Jesus today, He Himself turns the question on to us:

“Ask those who heard me what I said to them. They know what I said.”

It may seem like a simple response of Jesus during His trial, but there is a powerful implication in it: we have some answering to do as well.

To claim Christ as our Messiah and Lord – which is the proper response to hearing what He says to us – we must be willing to stand up and be counted among His own. What have we heard and seen? Can we do the same?

The Passion of the Lord, which we just heard proclaimed, includes a judicial process – a trial – which is featured rather prominently. Jesus is on trial – as are His teachings. Here, before us, Jesus is the witness. In Greek, the word is martyrion, whence we get “martyr.”

In light of Jesus’ trial – and, in particular, in light of His suggestion that His questioners as those who heard Him – what sort of witnesses are we?

Are we like Judas, who was lost, failed to understand Christ, and ultimately despaired?

Are we like Peter, who eventually fell silent and cowardly denied Jesus?

Are we like the beloved disciple, who needed to be near Christ and followed Him into the high priest’s house?

Are we like His Mother Mary, who compassionately and faithfully shared in the suffering of Her Son?

As Christians – as disciples – the Cross stands at the intersection of our life with God and our life with others. It is there – in the Cross – that our witness is made too, just like Jesus. This is His ultimate “hour,” and it is ours.

Yes, this witness can involve pain, sacrifice and suffering; but this is the way of the disciple. Our witness must flow from Jesus and what we have seen and heard.

Paying Attention

We begin the Easter Triduum this evening with this Mass of the Lord’s Supper. The Triduum refers to the three days – Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday through the Easter Vigil – that are liturgically celebrated as one day. It is helpful, then, for us to view these three liturgies as one and see a focus in what they are calling us toward. This year, I want to focus on their call to discipleship.

And in discipleship, there is a cost.

Tonight, as we commemorate Jesus’ Last Supper and His gift of the Priesthood and the Eucharist, we learn of the central role of service in our walk of faith. This is no mere “doing-good-stuff”; rather, these are examples that are meant to be “handed on.

 Our First Reading recalls the Passover, where God spared the Israelites and led them to freedom from slavery. They are meant to remember this – as our Jewish sisters and brothers are doing now – and to pass on this memory to future generations.

Saint Paul, in the Second Reading, “hands on” the mystery of the Eucharist, which he himself had received from others. This new Covenant in Christ’s Blood frees us from sin, and every time we celebrate it we proclaim that Jesus is Lord.

Finally, in the Gospel, Jesus gives us an “example to follow,” that what He does we also do.

These days stand at the root of Christianity and are reminders to us. What we believe and celebrate are not personal or private possessions, but are meant to be shared. Therefore, Jesus gives us visible signs as ways of passing on His example to others.

Only witness is credible. Jesus knows this; the great saints knew this. Therefore, service must be visible as an example and not as a “show.”

In our celebration this evening, we receive two great gifts from Jesus: the Priesthood and the Eucharist. However, John the Evangelist doesn’t really show us either in the gospel we just heard! Rather, we see Jesus washing His disciples’ feet.

The message is clear: discipleship demands service. It is outward love and care for others. John sets the stage as he writes, “He loved them to the end."

As Christians, we cannot be passive observers of the mysteries we celebrate. Otherwise, we cannot be true disciples. Our celebration of the mysteries of this Triduum – the gifts of the Priesthood and Eucharist, the sacrifice of Calvary, Christ’s descent among the dead, and His Resurrection – demands that we then act of what we see and hear.

In a few moments, I, your pastor, your shepherd, will kneel and wash the feet of some of our fellow parishioners. This is supposed to be an act of humility and love – and it is. However, it is done again as a reminder of what Jesus does for us: “I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you also should do.”

It is our privilege to gather this evening and remember that night. It is our privilege to share in the Eucharist that Jesus offers us, in commemoration of His saving sacrifice for us. We are that Body of Christ, formed by the Body of Christ; and we are sent forth to put into action the gifts we celebrate now – because we are disciples.

As disciples, our focus must be on Jesus – watching what He does, remembering His example, and then doing what He did.

Depression

Five and a half years ago I was diagnosed with depression.  It was a difficult and scary time in my personal life, and after several months of sleeplessness, inability to eat, and crying for no reason, I talked with my doctor.  Now, I am medicated for it, and pretty mud under control.  However, there are still some times - ups and downs - that creep in.  Generally, these can be indications that I am not exercising enough, or I am too busy or stressed, or I just haven't seen the sun in a while.

Depression is a medical condition - usually the result of some chemical imbalance - and there are treatments for it.  It's more than just feeling sad for a good reason, like the death of a loved one or listening to too many Morrissey songs.  The feelings are paralyzing, and there can also be a vague physical pain as well.

Strangely, I have gone through these ups and downs myself - not as dramatic as before I was diagnosed, but difficult nevertheless.  As a minister, as a priest, depression can be hard because there is an expectation of us to be "on" - greeting folks before and after Mass, celebrating the wonderful mysteries of God's love, and reminding others of the hope that our faith affords.

Depression is a demon.

Now, this does not absolve anyone suffering from it from seeking professional medical help - in fact, that is necessary, even obligatory.  However, for people of faith, I think you'd understand what I mean when I say there is a real spiritual element here too.  Prayer is very helpful for me - and not just my own, but those of the People of God.  Many, many people suffer with depression - I am no different from them, and I am certainly no sort of hero for admitting my own.  However, there is a real strength that comes from knowing that others share your burden too.  Depression can isolate you and make you feel so alone that you feel there is no way out.  That is the diabolic nature of the disease.

For people of faith - even for priests! - there can be a sense of guilt that comes with feelings of depression:  "After all, God loves me - why doesn't that make me happy?" "Am I not aware of the love of those around me?"  "What's wrong with me?!"  But that is exactly what the devil wants us to think.  This is not an issue of faith; it's medical, physical.

If you do suffer from depression, know that you are not alone.  You are not "faulty" or defective.  You are human and subject to all the difficulties and sufferings that the Fall has brought on us all.  This is your cross.  Seek help.  Seek prayer.  Seek God (He seeks you).

Today's Office of Readings offers me a great comfort.  In the Letter to the Hebrews we read:

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession.  For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin.  So let us confidently approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help (Heb 4:14-16).

Christ shares our burdens.  When we are too weak or broken to carry them, He holds us up.  May God bless us in our weakness so that His strength may shine through and be a light to others.

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There are resources on the Internet for exploring help, although talking with your personal physician or doctor is probably the best way to begin - so don't wait.

nami.org

Mayo clinic 

Depression and families

Ministers and depression

Don't Miss the Forest for the Palms

What do you do with your palm? You know, the ones you get today and take home? I’ve seen various uses:

• Some people braid them very beautifully (certainly, though, not during Mass!)
• Some do an origami-esque trick to shape them into crosses
• Some tie them around their rear-view mirrors in their cars
• Some take them home and set them behind a holy image or picture

There’s no “right” thing to do with them – they are “sacramentals” – objects used to remind us of faith and of some aspect of it.

What did those folks on that first “Palm Sunday” do with theirs, though? Sure, they lined the streets of Jerusalem with them as a “royal carpet” for Jesus in His triumphant entry into the city. They waved them in glad adoration as they proclaimed Him “the one who comes in the name of the Lord,” and echoed the song of the Christmas angles: “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”

However, they left those palms there.

A few short days later, that same Lord was dragged through the same streets after His arrest (did He notice the trampled palms?); He was led, beaten and bruised, through the streets again to the place of His crucifixion – thrown out of the same city He enters so triumphantly today.

The palms meant nothing more to the people.

So, what do we do?

We remember.

Jesus offers us a choice, as He comes among us – He, who shared the same suffering and death as two thieves. We can respond in one of two ways. Like the first thief, we can seek Him to take away our suffering and make everything OK so we don’t have to deal with pain and difficulty, and mock Him when we don’t get what we want; or, like the good thief, we can recognize our Lord in the midst of those sufferings – redeeming us!

We will take these palms home today, probably. We can use them in a variety of ways. However, my prayer is that each time you see them, they are reminders of the Lord whom they acclaim; of the sacrifice He offers for you; of the salvation we share in His name.

There is a fine line, it seems, between the “Hosannas” and the “Crucify Hims!” However, we walk that line, with the Lord, aware that He alone gives us the balance to stand.

The Divine Amateur

When I was a kid I had lots of Star Wars action figures – Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, Han Solo, Princess Leia, C-3PO, R2-D2 – I even had the play sets and vehicles – X-Wing fighters, the Millennium Falcon, and the Death Star. These were part of the backdrop of my childhood. I would tie the figures to sticks and throw them, crash the ships into trees and dirt – I played hard.

A few years ago, I came across a website that was for Star Wars buffs, and they had a link to the collectables, including the action figures. I saw many of the same guys I had as a kid. They were worth a lot of money now.

But there was a catch – the “collector’s catch.”

“Original packaging.”

If the figures were in their original packaging – i.e., unopened – then they were worth upward of $100 and more! In the condition of my poor guys, whom I had loved and played with hard, they were worth less than a dollar, usually.

Original packaging.

That’s the difference between a collector and a kid – or better, between a professional and an amateur.

But, do you know where the word “amateur” comes from? It comes to us in English from the French, meaning “lover.” Often, we use the word, “amateur,” to denote someone who has not done a good or perfect job at something. However, strictly speaking, an amateur is someone who does something simply because they love it.

In the Gospel today, we see a great contrast between the religious “professionals” and the “amateur” Jesus. Here they are, having captured this woman in the very act of adultery – they busted her – and now, they drag her into the square and toss her, embarrassed, in front of the Lord. Never mind where the man went!

Professionals are trained. Professionals are perfectionists – intent on finding flaws and fault in the performance of others. Here, these men point out the woman’s fault: she is an adulteress. They saw her; they know. What’s more, they know the Law: “Moses commanded us to stone such women.” Now, they want the opinion of the “wise and perfect Teacher.”

But what does Jesus do? He stoops down and draws in the dirt – as if their question doesn’t interest him. The men want an answer, and they keep pressing the “amateur” Lord. “We’ve got him!” they think. “Look: he can’t even face us!”

Finally, Jesus rises and gives His answer: “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”

Bam! Game over! Was this beginner’s luck for our amateur Jesus? Or did He just show them – and us – the true point of the Law?

The men who brought the woman out to Jesus didn’t care about her – who she was; they didn’t really care about what she did – although they knew it was sinful and worthy of punishment. She was, for them, simply a tool – an object – without dignity of her own. The punishment would not have helped anyone, but that wasn’t their aim.

Jesus, on the other hand, saw the woman, and as the Divine Amateur, He loved her. His response puts everything in perspective. We all need mercy and the love of God. We are all sinners.

In the weeks ahead, as folks return to church for Palm Sunday and Easter, we can look at them with jaded eyes and ask where they have been all year. But that would be falling into the same trap that the men in today’s gospel did. Do we love those people? Are we welcoming them with God’s love?

I want our church to be a church full of amateur Christians! Christains who are so because we love it – not because we are perfect or professional, but because we are loved by an Amateur God and we love Him in return. The seats that our brothers and sisters will fill next week belong to them as well! May we welcome them; make room for them; love them! As we enter these holiest of days, may we all strive to be amateurs – and see how God turns us into perfect images of His Son’s love.

Ad Juvenes...

Pope Francis addressed the Cardinals today, recognizing their challenge - and their duty - to the Young Church:

Dear Brothers, be strong! Half of us are in old age: old age is - at least I like to say - the seat of wisdom. Old people have the wisdom of having walked the road of life, as the old man Simeon, the old woman  Anna at the Temple. And precisely because of that wisdom did they recognize Jesus. Let us give this wisdom to the young people: as good wine, which over the years becomes even better, we give young people the knowledge of life. I am reminded of what a German poet of old said: "Es ist ruhig, das Alter und fromm": ["Old age] is a time of peace and prayer." And so give this wisdom to young people. You will now return in your dioceses to continue your ministry, enriched by the experience of these days, so full of faith and of ecclesial communion. This unique and incomparable [experience], has allowed us to understand in depth the beauty of the Church, which is a reflection of the splendor of the Risen Christ: one day, may we look upon that beautiful face of the Risen Christ!

Disciples Have Some Walking to Do - With Christ

When we walk without the Cross, when we build without the Cross and when we profess Christ without the Cross, we are not disciples of the Lord; we are worldly - we are Bishops, Priests, Cardinals, Popes, but not disciples of the Lord.

I wish that all [of us], after these days of grace, have the courage to walk in the Lord's presence, with the Cross of the Lord, to build the Church on the Blood of the Lord, which is shed on the Cross, and to confess the only glory: Christ Crucified. And so the Church will go on.

- Pope Francis

Homily, Sistine Chapel, March 14, 2013

"The Bishop Works"

One of the nominees for “Best Picture” this year was the cinematic rendering of the musical production of Les Misérables. That story is one of the greatest tales of redemption in literature. In Victor Hugo’s novel, there is much attention given to a rather minor character in the musical – the Bishop of Digne. In fact, most of the first book of the novel is about this kind and saintly bishop, whom people knew as “Monsigneur Bienvenu” (“Bishop Welcome”).

In the story, the central character, Jean Valjean, after release from prison, finds himself in the company of the good bishop, who offers him lodging for the night. During the night, Valjean, convinced that he is now and forever a hardened criminal and a thief, steals silverware from the house and flees. The next day, Valjean is captured and returned to the bishop for accusation and re-arrest. However, the bishop sees more – he sees an opportunity for Valjean – an opportunity for salvation.

Taking two silver candlesticks from his mantle, he hands the treasures to the thief, telling him that he had forgotten to take them also. Valjean is shocked; the guards are confused; the bishop smiles. After the police leave, the bishop reminds Valjean that this is no ordinary gift. He is to now go and be an honest man. He tells him,

“Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I buy from you; I withdraw it from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God.”

And, well, you know the rest. (If not, it is worth the musical, movie or book version of this classic tale!).

Redemption.

Salvation.

Grace.

That is what we’re talking about here.

In the gospel, Jesus tells a parable about a doomed fig tree. The owner has had enough of its barrenness. He is ready to cast it out. However, the gardener intercedes for it, promising to care for it and help it. If after that it cannot produce, then it can be cast aside.

He redeems the tree.

Jesus is that gardener. God is the owner. His intervention is grace and the redemption of what God has created for good. And this neat little parable offers us a reminder of what happens in our Sacrament of Reconciliation.

Here, we are under the weight of sin, which keeps us from bearing the fruit that God intends in our lives. “The wages of sin is death,” as St. Paul says elsewhere. However, through the sacrament, we receive the forgiveness of sins and absolution from God, through the intervention of Jesus Christ, whose death and resurrection make this reconciliation possible.

When we celebrate the Sacrament of Reconciliation, we don’t do so to be reminded how bad we are. Rather, we do it to be reminded of how good God is. Thank about it: we know ourselves well; we know our failures, our brokenness and our sins. These might fill us with shame, fear and doubt. Of course, God is a forgiving God, but He is also just. Therefore, we know what our sins “deserve.” However, as we enter the sacrament and acknowledge that we are fruitless and broken, God reminds us – through the priest – of the lengths to which He will go to bring us back. “God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of His Son, has reconciled the world to Himself, and sent the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins…”

The gardener has intervened. Jesus has redeemed us. In the words of absolution from the priest, we hear that beautiful message again. We should never tire of hearing it. It is as if we are Jean Valjean, and the bishop has just handed us his silver candlesticks. And what are candlesticks for? For carrying light, of course. Now, forgiven and absolved, we return to our lives changed – changed by the mercy of God, to live fully for Him.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation is an important part of our lives as Catholic Christians, because the mercy of God is central to our relationship with Him. It’s not about the priest; it’s about you, and God.

The chapter of Les Miz that describes that scene that I began with is entitled, “The Bishop Works.” It’s all about that life-changing moment when Valjean was redeemed by a pair of candlesticks. They are an integral part of the hero’s story.

The sacraments could also be called “God Works.” They, and especially Reconciliation, are moments of encounter with God that are life changing. From those moments, we rise again and carry our light to the rest of the world – forgiven, blessed, and changed for good.

Shining Through

Imagine the scene:

Jesus, having brought His three closest disciples with Him to pray on the mountain, is suddenly transfigured – His face shining brilliantly, His clothing bright as light. Moses, the great lawgiver and Elijah, the powerful prophet, are on either side of Him. They spoke of the fulfillment of Jesus’ mission in Jerusalem.

“Finally!,” the Apostles might have thought. “Now, we see Him as Lord and Messiah!”

After that scene passes, Peter is the first to respond with his brilliant idea. 

“Let’s make three tents.”

Really, Peter? Tents?

Even the evangelist, Luke, comments that “he did not know what he was saying.”

So what was Peter thinking? Somehow, he wanted to honor our Lord and remember this event. He wanted to share with others what he was coming to realize – that Jesus is the Messiah that everyone was waiting for. The tents might even make great tourist attractions!

But it wasn’t to be. Jesus knew that Peter and the disciples did not yet fully understand Him. He knew that if Peter and the boys build those tents, they would just be their tents – earthly reminders of their earthly hopes and ambitions – to be associated with the Messiah.

What sort of place could they have built for the glory of the Lord? No. Those dwellings would have to wait until they were truly Jesus’ dwellings. No matter how wonderful our spiritual experiences, they are moments in our lives that we must move on from.

We are on a journey – just as we journey with Christ this Lent. Peter didn’t know what he was talking about, but Jesus does. After the wonderful experience of the Transfiguration on the mountain, they must return down and continue the journey – a difficult journey that was to culminate in the Passion of Jesus.

This Lent is about preparing for Easter – both to celebrate the Resurrection of the Lord and to remember that this glory is ours as well. Therefore, on this journey, we seek to get our dwellings in order. Jesus wouldn’t let Peter set up dwellings because they were not meant to rest there. God still has work to do.

Our readings today all speak of dwellings – but not just our dwellings. More importantly, they are about the dwelling places that God wants. The gospel offers a couple good lessons for us, who are still on that journey, looking for a dwelling place.

First, Jesus invites the apostles – and us – to intimate prayer with Him. Often in the Gospel, we hear about Christ “going off by Himself” to pray. This time, we are privileged to be there with Him. We must make time to pray, because in prayer, we unite ourselves most clearly with God. When Jesus does this today, we see Him transfigured (I wonder if this happened every time He prayed, and only here do we get to see it?). This is because He is God and in that union, His glory cannot help but shine through. For us, in prayer, we taste the intimacy of God’s desire for us.

Saint Alphonsus Ligouri once said, “Paradise for God is the human heart.” That is where He wishes to dwell for eternity. For God, “heaven” is our heart. So, we look at this dwelling and ask ourselves, “Is it ready for God?” Would God feel welcome here? This is the second lesson. We are not responsible for building tents or reminders to other of how we experience God. We must only show the effects of that encounter. For Peter and the others, this means continuing to walk with Christ, no matter how difficult the journey. There is glory awaiting us too.

Finally, we learn from the gospel that our faith is active. Jesus does not rest there in that wonderful spiritual experience. Rather, He takes the apostles and continues His journey toward Jerusalem. Spiritual experiences are great, and we all need them; however, we cannot make idols out of them. This was Peter’s mistake here, as his “mind is occupied with earthly things,” as the Second Reading warns. 

Many people will say that they are “spiritual but not religious.” This is okay, but it misses out on the fullness of our faith experience. Religion helps provide a context within which to process that spiritual experience (if, indeed, that is what they experience). Faith in Christ allows us to see this moment of glory and be strengthened for the reality of living our faith in the midst of trial and difficulty.

So, forget about the tents, Peter. Let God build His own dwelling. And He wishes to set it up right here – in our hearts. That’s the greatest ecstasy that He can imagine; it’s what He is longing for. In this Eucharist, Jesus comes to us and dwells within – opening our hearts again to the presence of His love and life.

During this Lent, we have the opportunity to help make that dwelling the bet it can be for Him, so that at Easter, the glory of our new life can shine through all the brighter.