St. Joseph Church (Cottleville)
Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B
February 21-22, 2009 - 5:00 p.m., 7:00 & 8:45 a.m.
Is 43:18-19, 21-22, 24b-25
Ps 41
2 Cor 1:18-22
Mk 2:1-12
This may be one of those gospel readings that we have heard so many times it no longer strikes us as extraordinary. If we take the time, however, to really think about the scene we just heard described, we come to see that there is something incredible about what happened at Peter’s house in Capernaum. A couple weeks ago we heard how our Lord had cured Simon Peter’s mother-in-law in that very house. Now He returns, after traveling all over Galilee preaching and healing. Now He returns here to Capernaum, which is His home-base of sorts. It was the custom in that part of the world for people to leave the doors of theirs homes open during the day as a sign that visitors were welcome. Well apparently our Lord drew quite a crowd of visitors, since Mark tells us that there were so many that there wasn’t even room around the door of the house for more people to listen to Christ’s preaching.
Into this fray come four men carrying their friend who is paralyzed. They must have heard of the miraculous healings our Lord had been performing and realized that this was their chance to help their friend. Already here we should admire the love of these men for their paralyzed friend. They knew that they couldn’t do anything for him, but they also knew someone who could. Imagine their dismay when they saw the great crowd of people. Imagine how hard they must have tried to get through the crowd to Jesus without any success. And yet even this would not deter them. They were so determined to bring the paralyzed man to Christ that they came up with a pretty crazy plan. They carried him up to the roof of the house, and then they literally had to bread through the thatch and clay roof in order to have access to the house. (Makes you wonder how Peter felt about all of this…) Imagine too the reaction of the crowd as they saw this man being lowered on his mat into the house.
And now we come to the key point of the Gospel. Our Lord works a miracle of healing after He sees the determination of those who are seeking Him. How could He not fulfill their request after all they have gone through to reach Him. Their desire for Him is so strong that nothing was going to get in the way of their reaching Him.
This Gospel fulfills the words of the Lord in our reading from the prophet Isaiah: “See, I am doing something new!” Our Lord was doing something new when He forgave the sins of the paralytic and healed his physical ailment. The words of the prophet remain true for us today. In the midst of the monotony of our daily routine, Jesus Christ wants to do something new for us –even here at this very Mass. Maybe we are burdened by some sin that we can’t seem to get rid of. Christ wants to do something new for us. Maybe we, on the other hand, we feel that we’re on the right track, that we’ve been living a truly Christian life, in accord with the teachings of the Church, for some time now. Even then, Christ wants to do something new. Wherever we find ourselves, we have not exhausted the infinite riches that Jesus Christ has to offer to us. He always wants to take us deeper into the very life of the Trinity – the very life that He enjoys with the Father and the Holy Spirit.
So the question falls to us. Are we as determined as the four men in the Gospel to get to Christ? Are we so convinced that He has something to give us – something that no one else can give us – that we will do whatever it takes to make our request heard? Notice in the Gospel that Christ is hard to reach not because He has hidden Himself but because of the large crowd. In a similar way, our lives are crowded with all kinds of things that could stand between us and Christ – everything from the lies we are told by the world to our own attachments to things other than Him.
As I’m sure you all know, Lent is now just a few days away. This Wednesday, Ash Wednesday, will mark the beginning of that ever-important season that prepares our hearts to meet Christ in His passion, death, and resurrection. Jesus Christ wants to do something radically new for every one of us during this Lenten season. He wants to do something radically new for us this year when we celebrate the Paschal Mystery at Easter. The season of Lent, then, is an opportunity to show to Him how deeply we long to reach Him, to be touched by Him. It’s our chance to take drastic measures to reach Him – to climb to the roof and to break through in order to get around whatever might stand between us and deeper union with Him.
This Lent, let us take seriously those traditional practices that cannot fail to show our Lord how much we need Him – the practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. In these next few days, each of us needs to reflect upon how we are being called to embrace these practices this Lent. What will I do differently in my prayer life? Maybe I’ll commit myself to spending some time each week here in the adoration chapel or some time each day at home reflecting on the Scripture readings for the day. What will I fast from during these days? Maybe it will be a traditional fast from certain types of food. Or maybe it will be a fast from something else. Maybe I’ll commit myself to spending less time on the Internet or watching television. And how will I heed our Lord’s call to give alms? Maybe I can increase my contributions to the parish or to a charitable organization. Maybe I can go through my closet and give away those extra clothes that I don’t really need. Maybe I could even give of my time to serve the poor by volunteering.
Our Lord stands ready with His grace at every moment, and in a particularly strong way He does so during the holy season of Lent. At every moment He longs to do something new for us. May we receive from Him at this Mass and throughout the season of Lent the grace we need to do something as radical as those four men in the Gospel – the grace to be willing to do whatever it takes to reach our Lord and His healing touch. Then, when Easter comes, we will reflect upon what God has done for us in our Lenten journey, and we will be able to repeat with the crowd in today’s Gospel: “We have never seen anything like this.”
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Blessed Be the Name of the Lord!
St. Joseph Church (Cottleville)
Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B
February 8, 2009 - 12:15 p.m.
Job 7:1-4, 6-7
Ps 147
1 Cor 9:16-19, 22-23
Mk 1:29-39
Would you believe that in the first reading today you heard some of the oldest words in the Bible? Many scholars believe that Job is the oldest book of the entire Bible, probably written about 1500 years before Christ. Now, we don’t know for sure whether it is the oldest of all the books – that’s merely speculation – but it is certain that Job is a very intriguing figure.
Job, Scripture tells us, was a blameless and upright man (Job 1:1). He was very successful – married with ten children, 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 yoke of oxen; the list goes on and on. Now God was obviously quite pleased with Job, and it happened one day that He was kind of bragging to Satan about His faithful servant. Satan, on the other hand, was quite annoyed by Job, since he was such an upright man, and he said to the Lord, “Job isn’t that great of a man. Anyone who has so many material blessings would be just as faithful as him. Take that all away. Then you’ll see the true Job.” So God gave Satan permission to do anything he wanted other than take Job’s life. And so it happened, that one-by-one Satan began to destroy every good thing in Job’s life. First he lost all of his possessions. Then his children all died. Finally his own health began to give him trouble. The words we heard in today’s reading are spoken by Job to friends who come to visit him. They are an honest expression of the great pain the trial has caused him. And yet, through it all, Job refuses to turn his back on the Lord. He remains faithful, even when it seems that God has abandoned him completely. He says, “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord” (1:21).
Now look at the contrast between Job and the people who come to Christ in today’s Gospel. Jesus is working mighty deeds of healing in Capernaum. St. Mark tells us that the whole town was gathered at the door of the house where He was staying. Now certainly it’s not wrong that people were coming to the Lord seeking the healing He offered. But the fact remains that the people weren’t’ coming to Christ out of love. They weren’t coming for Him. They were coming because they knew that they could get what they wanted from Him. They came not for Him but for what He could do for them. That’s very different from Job. He was faithful to the Lord even when everything in his life and even his best friends were telling him that God had abandoned him. He wasn’t concerned so much with what God could do for him. Instead, he had faith. He knew that he owed everything, even his very life, to God. And so he remained faithful, even when his faithfulness was greatly tried.
So the readings today give us an opportunity to ask ourselves where we stand – here and now – in our relationship with Christ. Are we like Job? Do we call ourselves Christians because our lives are totally centered upon Christ for who He is in Himself? Or are we more like the people who come to our Lord in the Gospel? Are we more concerned with what’s in it for us, with what Christ can do for us? Spiritual writers have written about this struggle for centuries. We have to reach a point in our spiritual lives, they say, where we are purified of our attachment to the favors and blessings the Lord pours upon us and fix ourselves totally on God Himself. The question we must ask ourselves is simple: Do I love the gifts of God? Or do I love God Himself?
This has a very practical implication for our attitude each week when we come here to the Mass. Mother Church tells us that the Mass has two primary ends or goals: first is to glorify God, second is to receive His grace that sanctifies us. The Mass is certainly the source of every grace we could ever need in our lives, but the Church tells us that if we’re coming here simply to get that grace, then our priorities are all wrong. We should be here first and foremost to give glory to God. In other words, it’s not about what I get out of Mass but what I put into Mass. Maybe I can’t stand the music. (Surely no one would say that about this music…) Maybe I hate the way the church looks. (Surely no one would say that about this church.) Maybe I’m tired of hearing that priest or that deacon ramble on in his homily. (Surely no one would say that about this deacon!) All of that is secondary. Our primary concern must be offering all of ourselves with Christ to God the Father. Think of that beautiful doxology, when the Precious Body and Blood of Christ are raised and the priest sings, “Through Him, with Him, in Him, all glory and honor is yours, Almighty Father, forever and ever.” We must come here first and foremost to pour out our lives to the Father, praising and glorifying Him – yes, for His wonderful gifts – but even more for who He is in Himself.
The story of Job didn’t end with all his misery. After he had been tested and proved faithful, Satan’s power over him was taken away, and God poured forth upon him more blessings than he knew even before he was tried. Scripture tells us that he lived another 140 years! He had ten more children, and – you can’t make this stuff up – his three daughters were the most beautiful in all the land! He received double the possessions and riches he had before! You see, if we get our priorities straight, we don’t have to worry about a thing. If we give our lives over to the praise of God, if we seek first the kingdom, everything else will be given us besides. If we come to this altar week after week and pour out our hearts completely in praise of God, offering everything we have and are out of love for Him, we are going to leave here having received more abundantly from His riches than we ever thought possible. We’re going to receive not progeny or riches, not health or good feelings. We’re going to receive something infinitely greater than those passing things. We’re going to receive nothing short of God Himself, dwelling in our hearts as a foretaste of eternal life with Him in heaven.
So wherever we find ourselves today – whether basking in God’s abundant gifts or suffering through great trial – let us offer fitting worship to glorify the Father. Through our participation in the Mass today, let us re-echo the words of Job: “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B
February 8, 2009 - 12:15 p.m.
Job 7:1-4, 6-7
Ps 147
1 Cor 9:16-19, 22-23
Mk 1:29-39
Would you believe that in the first reading today you heard some of the oldest words in the Bible? Many scholars believe that Job is the oldest book of the entire Bible, probably written about 1500 years before Christ. Now, we don’t know for sure whether it is the oldest of all the books – that’s merely speculation – but it is certain that Job is a very intriguing figure.
Job, Scripture tells us, was a blameless and upright man (Job 1:1). He was very successful – married with ten children, 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 yoke of oxen; the list goes on and on. Now God was obviously quite pleased with Job, and it happened one day that He was kind of bragging to Satan about His faithful servant. Satan, on the other hand, was quite annoyed by Job, since he was such an upright man, and he said to the Lord, “Job isn’t that great of a man. Anyone who has so many material blessings would be just as faithful as him. Take that all away. Then you’ll see the true Job.” So God gave Satan permission to do anything he wanted other than take Job’s life. And so it happened, that one-by-one Satan began to destroy every good thing in Job’s life. First he lost all of his possessions. Then his children all died. Finally his own health began to give him trouble. The words we heard in today’s reading are spoken by Job to friends who come to visit him. They are an honest expression of the great pain the trial has caused him. And yet, through it all, Job refuses to turn his back on the Lord. He remains faithful, even when it seems that God has abandoned him completely. He says, “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord” (1:21).
Now look at the contrast between Job and the people who come to Christ in today’s Gospel. Jesus is working mighty deeds of healing in Capernaum. St. Mark tells us that the whole town was gathered at the door of the house where He was staying. Now certainly it’s not wrong that people were coming to the Lord seeking the healing He offered. But the fact remains that the people weren’t’ coming to Christ out of love. They weren’t coming for Him. They were coming because they knew that they could get what they wanted from Him. They came not for Him but for what He could do for them. That’s very different from Job. He was faithful to the Lord even when everything in his life and even his best friends were telling him that God had abandoned him. He wasn’t concerned so much with what God could do for him. Instead, he had faith. He knew that he owed everything, even his very life, to God. And so he remained faithful, even when his faithfulness was greatly tried.
So the readings today give us an opportunity to ask ourselves where we stand – here and now – in our relationship with Christ. Are we like Job? Do we call ourselves Christians because our lives are totally centered upon Christ for who He is in Himself? Or are we more like the people who come to our Lord in the Gospel? Are we more concerned with what’s in it for us, with what Christ can do for us? Spiritual writers have written about this struggle for centuries. We have to reach a point in our spiritual lives, they say, where we are purified of our attachment to the favors and blessings the Lord pours upon us and fix ourselves totally on God Himself. The question we must ask ourselves is simple: Do I love the gifts of God? Or do I love God Himself?
This has a very practical implication for our attitude each week when we come here to the Mass. Mother Church tells us that the Mass has two primary ends or goals: first is to glorify God, second is to receive His grace that sanctifies us. The Mass is certainly the source of every grace we could ever need in our lives, but the Church tells us that if we’re coming here simply to get that grace, then our priorities are all wrong. We should be here first and foremost to give glory to God. In other words, it’s not about what I get out of Mass but what I put into Mass. Maybe I can’t stand the music. (Surely no one would say that about this music…) Maybe I hate the way the church looks. (Surely no one would say that about this church.) Maybe I’m tired of hearing that priest or that deacon ramble on in his homily. (Surely no one would say that about this deacon!) All of that is secondary. Our primary concern must be offering all of ourselves with Christ to God the Father. Think of that beautiful doxology, when the Precious Body and Blood of Christ are raised and the priest sings, “Through Him, with Him, in Him, all glory and honor is yours, Almighty Father, forever and ever.” We must come here first and foremost to pour out our lives to the Father, praising and glorifying Him – yes, for His wonderful gifts – but even more for who He is in Himself.
The story of Job didn’t end with all his misery. After he had been tested and proved faithful, Satan’s power over him was taken away, and God poured forth upon him more blessings than he knew even before he was tried. Scripture tells us that he lived another 140 years! He had ten more children, and – you can’t make this stuff up – his three daughters were the most beautiful in all the land! He received double the possessions and riches he had before! You see, if we get our priorities straight, we don’t have to worry about a thing. If we give our lives over to the praise of God, if we seek first the kingdom, everything else will be given us besides. If we come to this altar week after week and pour out our hearts completely in praise of God, offering everything we have and are out of love for Him, we are going to leave here having received more abundantly from His riches than we ever thought possible. We’re going to receive not progeny or riches, not health or good feelings. We’re going to receive something infinitely greater than those passing things. We’re going to receive nothing short of God Himself, dwelling in our hearts as a foretaste of eternal life with Him in heaven.
So wherever we find ourselves today – whether basking in God’s abundant gifts or suffering through great trial – let us offer fitting worship to glorify the Father. Through our participation in the Mass today, let us re-echo the words of Job: “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Friday, January 30, 2009
The Oil of Divine Charity
Kenrick-Glennon Seminary
Memorial of St. Martina, Virgn and Martyr (Mass in the Extraordinary Form)
January 30, 2009
Mt 25:1-13
St. Augustine offers a fascinating interpretation of the passage we heard this morning from St. Matthew’s Gospel. He says that when the evangelist speaks of five virgins with lighted lamps the number five refers to the five senses and the virgins refer to the refraining from unlawful indulgence of the senses. The lighted lamps are signs of good works that shine before men. Thus, both groups of virgins in the Gospel stand for those who refrain from unlawful things and do good works. What is it, then, that separates the wise from the foolish, Augustine asks? It is the oil. When they awake at the resurrection after the sleep of death, the wise virgins find that they have plenty of oil to await the Bridegroom, while the foolish have run out. The wise had fueled their lamps with the oil of the love of God, while the foolish had relied upon the oil of human praise. When they awoke at the resurrection, the wise found their oil of charity still burning, while the foolish found that there were no longer any to offer them human praise, as everyone was concerned with his own cause before the Divine Judge.
The point for our reflection today is clear. Surely all of us here strive to refrain from sin and to do good works. We must ask ourselves, however, what our motivation is in doing this. Do we ever do these things in order to receive human praise? Do I dedicate myself to intellectual formation in order to impress my professors? Do I carry out the external signs of devotion in order to appear holier to my brother seminarians? Do I put myself fully into my work in the parish in order to gain the admiration of parishioners? Or do I do all of these things simply out of love for God, because they are His will for me?
If we’re honest with ourselves, all of us likely have some duplicity in us. While we surely want to do everything for God’s greater glory, there are still traces within us of the desire to glorify ourselves. May we today identify those selfish desires within ourselves and ask our Lord, at this holy sacrifice, to purify our hearts, to send the fire of His Holy Spirit to burn away whatever selfishness remains in our hearts and to enflame our hearts with the pure love of God and of our neighbor for His sake. Thus may our hearts be prepared, as was the heart of St. Martina, to shun human praise, even to the point of giving our lives completely, in favor of the love of God.
Memorial of St. Martina, Virgn and Martyr (Mass in the Extraordinary Form)
January 30, 2009
Mt 25:1-13
St. Augustine offers a fascinating interpretation of the passage we heard this morning from St. Matthew’s Gospel. He says that when the evangelist speaks of five virgins with lighted lamps the number five refers to the five senses and the virgins refer to the refraining from unlawful indulgence of the senses. The lighted lamps are signs of good works that shine before men. Thus, both groups of virgins in the Gospel stand for those who refrain from unlawful things and do good works. What is it, then, that separates the wise from the foolish, Augustine asks? It is the oil. When they awake at the resurrection after the sleep of death, the wise virgins find that they have plenty of oil to await the Bridegroom, while the foolish have run out. The wise had fueled their lamps with the oil of the love of God, while the foolish had relied upon the oil of human praise. When they awoke at the resurrection, the wise found their oil of charity still burning, while the foolish found that there were no longer any to offer them human praise, as everyone was concerned with his own cause before the Divine Judge.
The point for our reflection today is clear. Surely all of us here strive to refrain from sin and to do good works. We must ask ourselves, however, what our motivation is in doing this. Do we ever do these things in order to receive human praise? Do I dedicate myself to intellectual formation in order to impress my professors? Do I carry out the external signs of devotion in order to appear holier to my brother seminarians? Do I put myself fully into my work in the parish in order to gain the admiration of parishioners? Or do I do all of these things simply out of love for God, because they are His will for me?
If we’re honest with ourselves, all of us likely have some duplicity in us. While we surely want to do everything for God’s greater glory, there are still traces within us of the desire to glorify ourselves. May we today identify those selfish desires within ourselves and ask our Lord, at this holy sacrifice, to purify our hearts, to send the fire of His Holy Spirit to burn away whatever selfishness remains in our hearts and to enflame our hearts with the pure love of God and of our neighbor for His sake. Thus may our hearts be prepared, as was the heart of St. Martina, to shun human praise, even to the point of giving our lives completely, in favor of the love of God.
Monday, January 19, 2009
"What are you looking for?"
St. Joseph Church (Cottleville)
Second Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B
January 17-18, 2009 - 5:00 p.m. & 7:00 a.m.
1 Sam 3:3b-10, 19
Ps 40
1 Cor 6:13c-15a, 17-20
Jn 1:35-42
One of my favorite summertime activities is to take in a Cardinals baseball game at Busch Stadium. And when I attend a game at the stadium, any number of thoughts stream through my mind. At one moment I might be caught up in awe as I watch a towering fly ball off the bat of Albert Pujols land in the left field grandstand. At another moment, I might find myself thanking the Lord that I was born in St. Louis and not in Kansas City or on the north side of Chicago. But sometimes in a vast crowd like that at Busch Stadium, I find myself thinking more profound thoughts. As I look at the thousands upon thousands of faces that fill those stands, I wonder to myself how many of those people know that they have a God who loves them so much that 2000 years ago He sent His very own Son to die for them, to give them eternal life.
It is one of the most beautiful truths of our faith that our Lord knows each one of us by name, that He longs to have a personal, intimate relationship with each one of us. He calls to each one of us constantly, day and night, as He called out to Samuel thousands of years ago – by name. And He waits for a response. He waits for each one of us to say to Him, “Here I am, Lord; I come to do your will. . . . Speak, Lord. Your servant is listening.”
This weekend the Church in the United States brings to a close National Vocations Awareness Week. A vocation, in simple terms, is really nothing other than the Lord calling each of us by name. Our vocation is the context in which He desires to share that personal, intimate relationship with us. Many today speak about a crisis in priestly and religious vocations – and for good reason. Our world has a great need for many more vocations to the priesthood and religious life. It’s vitally important that every one of us here is committed to these vocations in one way or another. For the young people here who have yet to commit themselves to a vocation, your duty is to be open to a call to the priesthood or religious life and to seriously ask the Lord if he is calling you to that life. For those of us who have already found our vocations, we have a responsibility to encourage the youth of our parish to consider such a call.
But there is another vocation in even greater crisis in our world, and this crisis is really at the root not only of the crisis in priestly and religious vocations but also of many other ills that plague our society. I speak, of course, of the vocation of marriage. How desperately we need holy and healthy marriages! After all, the family depends upon the marriage, and society as a whole depends upon the family.
It’s no secret that this crisis exists. All we have to do is look at the prevalence of divorce in our society. If our own lives have not been touched by it, we have certainly witnessed the great pain it causes in the lives of others. No one wants their marriage to end that way. Its prevalence indicates that something has gone terribly wrong in our marriages.
What, then, needs to happen in our society to heal these wounds in the vocation of marriage? At the beginning of his pontificate, Pope John Paul II proposed a solution. In his Theology of the Body he laid out a beautiful vision of what it means to be created as man and woman in the image of God. He proposed that the root of our current struggles in marriage is an inadequate understanding of human sexuality. Our society’s basic belief about human sexuality is that it is simply for pleasure, not much more than a form of entertainment. The results of such an attitude can be seen in the millions of children that have been aborted over the past three and a half decades and in the immense pain it has caused in the hearts of their mothers and fathers.
The Church, on the other hand, proposes a much more beautiful and profound understanding of human sexuality. God made us as sexual beings, as male and female, so that our very bodies would cry out the truth that we are not meant to be alone. We were created for others. Our sexuality is meant to lead us not to seek pleasure for ourselves but to look to relationship with others as the meaning of our lives. So it is that every vocation lives out this call of our sexuality. In vocations to the priesthood and religious life, it is lived out in a celibate life dedicated to the service of God’s people in the Church. In the vocation of marriage it is lived out primarily in that beautiful relationship between husband and wife – the relationship that is meant to be free, total, faithful, and fruitful – and in their loving care for their children.
There’s not time in one Sunday homily to give a full explanation about everything the Church teaches on the subject of human sexuality, but it must be pointed out that for four decades now the Church has been calling her sons and daughters to conversion in the area of artificial contraception. She does so not to form a rule that will make everyone’s life more difficult. It isn’t as if there are bishops sitting around in Rome just thinking up ways to place more burdens upon us. The Church teaches what she does because she recognizes artificial contraception as a barrier to truly holy and healthy and happy marriages, as a root cause in our current crisis in marriage. She is drawing from 2000 years of wisdom to guide us all on the path that will ultimately satisfy our deepest desires. She wants only true happiness and joy for married couples and for their children. Without saying anything more on this subject, I would simply invite you, especially if this is a difficult area for you, to consider looking more deeply and with an open heart at what our Lord is teaching us through His Church. You may be amazed at what you discover. There are many couples here in our own parish who could speak of how strong and healthy their marriages and families are because they have embraced this teaching.
In the Gospels, our Lord has a way of asking very profound, pointed questions in just a few words. Today He does so when He turns to the disciples of St. John the Baptist and asks, “What are you looking for?” Imagine the Son of God looking into your eyes and asking you the same question: “What are you looking for?” No matter how we would answer that question at first, Christ poses it to our hearts because He knows that ultimately we’re all looking for exactly the same thing. When we strip away those things that concern us on the surface, when we dig more deeply into our desires than what we think we need here and now, we come to see a craving that cannot be satisfied by anything in this world. In the midst of this world in which everything is passing, we want something eternal, something that will last, something that does not change but will satisfy us forever. Ultimately, our Lord knows – and we know, if we are honest with ourselves – that we’re looking for Him. We’re longing to hear Him speak our name, directly to our hearts, just as He spoke Samuel’s name so many centuries ago.
“What are you looking for?” Our Lord longs to give each of us exactly what we are ultimately looking for. He longs to do so through the vocation that He has given to us. As we come again to this holy altar today, may we each ask Him for the grace that we need. If we have yet to discover our vocation, let us ask Him with open hearts to show us His will for our lives. If we have found our vocations, let us thank Him for that gift. Let us ask Him for the grace to live them in accord with His will, for continued growth where we know we are living our vocations well and for conversion in those areas where we still struggle to embrace His will. Let us all, together with the disciples, ask the Lord, “Where are you staying?” And let us follow Him faithfully, wherever He will lead, when He responds, “Come, and you will see.”
Second Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B
January 17-18, 2009 - 5:00 p.m. & 7:00 a.m.
1 Sam 3:3b-10, 19
Ps 40
1 Cor 6:13c-15a, 17-20
Jn 1:35-42
One of my favorite summertime activities is to take in a Cardinals baseball game at Busch Stadium. And when I attend a game at the stadium, any number of thoughts stream through my mind. At one moment I might be caught up in awe as I watch a towering fly ball off the bat of Albert Pujols land in the left field grandstand. At another moment, I might find myself thanking the Lord that I was born in St. Louis and not in Kansas City or on the north side of Chicago. But sometimes in a vast crowd like that at Busch Stadium, I find myself thinking more profound thoughts. As I look at the thousands upon thousands of faces that fill those stands, I wonder to myself how many of those people know that they have a God who loves them so much that 2000 years ago He sent His very own Son to die for them, to give them eternal life.
It is one of the most beautiful truths of our faith that our Lord knows each one of us by name, that He longs to have a personal, intimate relationship with each one of us. He calls to each one of us constantly, day and night, as He called out to Samuel thousands of years ago – by name. And He waits for a response. He waits for each one of us to say to Him, “Here I am, Lord; I come to do your will. . . . Speak, Lord. Your servant is listening.”
This weekend the Church in the United States brings to a close National Vocations Awareness Week. A vocation, in simple terms, is really nothing other than the Lord calling each of us by name. Our vocation is the context in which He desires to share that personal, intimate relationship with us. Many today speak about a crisis in priestly and religious vocations – and for good reason. Our world has a great need for many more vocations to the priesthood and religious life. It’s vitally important that every one of us here is committed to these vocations in one way or another. For the young people here who have yet to commit themselves to a vocation, your duty is to be open to a call to the priesthood or religious life and to seriously ask the Lord if he is calling you to that life. For those of us who have already found our vocations, we have a responsibility to encourage the youth of our parish to consider such a call.
But there is another vocation in even greater crisis in our world, and this crisis is really at the root not only of the crisis in priestly and religious vocations but also of many other ills that plague our society. I speak, of course, of the vocation of marriage. How desperately we need holy and healthy marriages! After all, the family depends upon the marriage, and society as a whole depends upon the family.
It’s no secret that this crisis exists. All we have to do is look at the prevalence of divorce in our society. If our own lives have not been touched by it, we have certainly witnessed the great pain it causes in the lives of others. No one wants their marriage to end that way. Its prevalence indicates that something has gone terribly wrong in our marriages.
What, then, needs to happen in our society to heal these wounds in the vocation of marriage? At the beginning of his pontificate, Pope John Paul II proposed a solution. In his Theology of the Body he laid out a beautiful vision of what it means to be created as man and woman in the image of God. He proposed that the root of our current struggles in marriage is an inadequate understanding of human sexuality. Our society’s basic belief about human sexuality is that it is simply for pleasure, not much more than a form of entertainment. The results of such an attitude can be seen in the millions of children that have been aborted over the past three and a half decades and in the immense pain it has caused in the hearts of their mothers and fathers.
The Church, on the other hand, proposes a much more beautiful and profound understanding of human sexuality. God made us as sexual beings, as male and female, so that our very bodies would cry out the truth that we are not meant to be alone. We were created for others. Our sexuality is meant to lead us not to seek pleasure for ourselves but to look to relationship with others as the meaning of our lives. So it is that every vocation lives out this call of our sexuality. In vocations to the priesthood and religious life, it is lived out in a celibate life dedicated to the service of God’s people in the Church. In the vocation of marriage it is lived out primarily in that beautiful relationship between husband and wife – the relationship that is meant to be free, total, faithful, and fruitful – and in their loving care for their children.
There’s not time in one Sunday homily to give a full explanation about everything the Church teaches on the subject of human sexuality, but it must be pointed out that for four decades now the Church has been calling her sons and daughters to conversion in the area of artificial contraception. She does so not to form a rule that will make everyone’s life more difficult. It isn’t as if there are bishops sitting around in Rome just thinking up ways to place more burdens upon us. The Church teaches what she does because she recognizes artificial contraception as a barrier to truly holy and healthy and happy marriages, as a root cause in our current crisis in marriage. She is drawing from 2000 years of wisdom to guide us all on the path that will ultimately satisfy our deepest desires. She wants only true happiness and joy for married couples and for their children. Without saying anything more on this subject, I would simply invite you, especially if this is a difficult area for you, to consider looking more deeply and with an open heart at what our Lord is teaching us through His Church. You may be amazed at what you discover. There are many couples here in our own parish who could speak of how strong and healthy their marriages and families are because they have embraced this teaching.
In the Gospels, our Lord has a way of asking very profound, pointed questions in just a few words. Today He does so when He turns to the disciples of St. John the Baptist and asks, “What are you looking for?” Imagine the Son of God looking into your eyes and asking you the same question: “What are you looking for?” No matter how we would answer that question at first, Christ poses it to our hearts because He knows that ultimately we’re all looking for exactly the same thing. When we strip away those things that concern us on the surface, when we dig more deeply into our desires than what we think we need here and now, we come to see a craving that cannot be satisfied by anything in this world. In the midst of this world in which everything is passing, we want something eternal, something that will last, something that does not change but will satisfy us forever. Ultimately, our Lord knows – and we know, if we are honest with ourselves – that we’re looking for Him. We’re longing to hear Him speak our name, directly to our hearts, just as He spoke Samuel’s name so many centuries ago.
“What are you looking for?” Our Lord longs to give each of us exactly what we are ultimately looking for. He longs to do so through the vocation that He has given to us. As we come again to this holy altar today, may we each ask Him for the grace that we need. If we have yet to discover our vocation, let us ask Him with open hearts to show us His will for our lives. If we have found our vocations, let us thank Him for that gift. Let us ask Him for the grace to live them in accord with His will, for continued growth where we know we are living our vocations well and for conversion in those areas where we still struggle to embrace His will. Let us all, together with the disciples, ask the Lord, “Where are you staying?” And let us follow Him faithfully, wherever He will lead, when He responds, “Come, and you will see.”
Friday, January 16, 2009
Sons in the Son
St. Joseph Church (Cottleville)
Solemnity of the Baptism of the Lord - Year B
January 11, 2009 - 8:45 & 10:30 a.m.
Is 55:1-55
1 Jn 5:1-9
Mk 1:7-11
A rather puzzling question faces us on this feast day, the Solemnity of the Baptism of the Lord. Why was our Lord baptized? Just before the verses we heard in today’s Gospel, St. Mark told us that St. John the Baptist was preaching a baptism of repentance. But repentance is for sinners. If Jesus Christ is the perfect, sinless Son of God, why would He have needed to meet John in the Jordan to be baptized? The answer is simple, and it shows us again the great humility of God that we celebrate in the Christmas season that ends today. Christ didn’t need to be baptized. There was nothing lacking in Him that baptism at the hand of His fellow man could fill up. In fact, what was lacking was John’s baptism. John knew this. “I’m merely baptizing with water,” he said. “The one coming after me will baptize with the Holy Spirit.” And so it was that Jesus came to be baptized in the Jordan to transform the water of John’s imperfect baptism into an instrument of the Holy Spirit. He perfected what was lacking in John’s baptism. As John poured water over the head of Christ it was not Christ who was made holy by the water but the water that was made holy by Christ.
We say that each of the seven sacraments was instituted by Christ Himself. His own baptism in the Jordan instituted the sacrament of baptism which we have all received. Now, instead of simply a sign, baptism has become a true channel of grace. Now, just as our Lord was revealed as the Son of God at His baptism, the waters of baptismal fonts across the globe make each of us to be the same: sons and daughters of God. We may not have seen the heaven’s rent over our heads or a dove descend upon us, but at the moment of f our baptism the Holy Spirit did descend upon us, and God said directly to our hearts, “You are my beloved son; you are my beloved daughter. With you I am well pleased.” If we quiet our hearts, we can still hear the echo of those words: “You are my beloved son; you are my beloved daughter.” The Father spoke those words to us because in baptism we put on Christ. Christ was formed in us in such a way that now, when God the Father looks upon us, He sees His very own Son in us. We are, as the saying goes, “sons in the Son.” We call this the ontological change of baptism. It’s not just a sign; there is a permanent change that takes place in us. You and I are different in our very being from those who have not received the grace of baptism. And that ontological change cannot be taken away. It can be obscured by sin, but it can never be removed. And so, what we celebrate today is that Jesus Christ unsealed the waters of baptism for us by Himself going down into those waters. Now, to anyone who is thirsty, that water is given as the pledge of eternal life. Each of us has drawn water joyfully from the springs of salvation.
How often do we recall the great dignity that we possess because we have been baptized? It may sound to us like a cliché because we hear it so often, but in fact it is no small thing to be a son or daughter of God! That fact should make every difference in the world in our lives. We should thank and praise God every single day for the great gift He has given us in that sacrament, the gift of being made His very own sons and daughters, the gift of eternal life. So what can we do to make ourselves mindful of this great gift? I would propose two things. First, every time we walk into this church we likely sign ourselves with holy water. That’s not something we do to make ourselves different from other Christians, it’s not just one of those odd Catholic things we do. That water is there to remind us of our baptism. So when we make the sign of the cross with holy water, we can give thanks to God for the gift of baptism. We can hear again in our hearts, “You are my beloved son; you are my beloved daughter.”
The second suggestion I have is something that I learned from my own parents. When we were children, my siblings and I each had a candle with our patron saint on it. Each year, on the anniversary of our baptism, we got to light that candle and watch it burn in front of us as we ate our dinner on the “You Are Special Today” placemat. How many of us know the anniversary of our baptism? (I have to confess that I had forgotten mine. I called my mother on Friday to find it out.) But, if we celebrate our birthday with such joy, why should we not celebrate the day of our birth into eternal life with even greater joy? Perhaps we could resolve today to find out the date of our baptism and to write it on our calendars. Then, when that day comes around, we can thank God in a special way on that day for what He has given us in that sacrament. On that day, we could renew the vows we made or that our parents made for us, when we promised to follow Christ unreservedly.
The patron saint of our beloved Archdiocese is St. Louis of France. He was a very powerful man, king of a vast kingdom. He had immense riches at his disposal, countless servants at his beck and call. He had been crowned king in what was surely a magnificent ceremony in Rheims Cathedral. And yet, he wrote these words:
“I think more of the place where I was baptized than of Rheims Cathedral where I was crowned. It is a greater thing to be a child of God than to be the ruler of a kingdom: the first I shall lose at death, but the other will be my passport to an everlasting glory.”
St. Louis knew what was important. He was a wise and holy king because he knew the dignity he possessed as a baptized follower of Christ. Today, may we be grateful for the gift of that sacrament. May we allow the grace of that sacrament to be nourished at this altar, that we may each continue to progress towards everlasting glory, that glory to which we were invited at the moment of our baptism.
Solemnity of the Baptism of the Lord - Year B
January 11, 2009 - 8:45 & 10:30 a.m.
Is 55:1-55
1 Jn 5:1-9
Mk 1:7-11
A rather puzzling question faces us on this feast day, the Solemnity of the Baptism of the Lord. Why was our Lord baptized? Just before the verses we heard in today’s Gospel, St. Mark told us that St. John the Baptist was preaching a baptism of repentance. But repentance is for sinners. If Jesus Christ is the perfect, sinless Son of God, why would He have needed to meet John in the Jordan to be baptized? The answer is simple, and it shows us again the great humility of God that we celebrate in the Christmas season that ends today. Christ didn’t need to be baptized. There was nothing lacking in Him that baptism at the hand of His fellow man could fill up. In fact, what was lacking was John’s baptism. John knew this. “I’m merely baptizing with water,” he said. “The one coming after me will baptize with the Holy Spirit.” And so it was that Jesus came to be baptized in the Jordan to transform the water of John’s imperfect baptism into an instrument of the Holy Spirit. He perfected what was lacking in John’s baptism. As John poured water over the head of Christ it was not Christ who was made holy by the water but the water that was made holy by Christ.
We say that each of the seven sacraments was instituted by Christ Himself. His own baptism in the Jordan instituted the sacrament of baptism which we have all received. Now, instead of simply a sign, baptism has become a true channel of grace. Now, just as our Lord was revealed as the Son of God at His baptism, the waters of baptismal fonts across the globe make each of us to be the same: sons and daughters of God. We may not have seen the heaven’s rent over our heads or a dove descend upon us, but at the moment of f our baptism the Holy Spirit did descend upon us, and God said directly to our hearts, “You are my beloved son; you are my beloved daughter. With you I am well pleased.” If we quiet our hearts, we can still hear the echo of those words: “You are my beloved son; you are my beloved daughter.” The Father spoke those words to us because in baptism we put on Christ. Christ was formed in us in such a way that now, when God the Father looks upon us, He sees His very own Son in us. We are, as the saying goes, “sons in the Son.” We call this the ontological change of baptism. It’s not just a sign; there is a permanent change that takes place in us. You and I are different in our very being from those who have not received the grace of baptism. And that ontological change cannot be taken away. It can be obscured by sin, but it can never be removed. And so, what we celebrate today is that Jesus Christ unsealed the waters of baptism for us by Himself going down into those waters. Now, to anyone who is thirsty, that water is given as the pledge of eternal life. Each of us has drawn water joyfully from the springs of salvation.
How often do we recall the great dignity that we possess because we have been baptized? It may sound to us like a cliché because we hear it so often, but in fact it is no small thing to be a son or daughter of God! That fact should make every difference in the world in our lives. We should thank and praise God every single day for the great gift He has given us in that sacrament, the gift of being made His very own sons and daughters, the gift of eternal life. So what can we do to make ourselves mindful of this great gift? I would propose two things. First, every time we walk into this church we likely sign ourselves with holy water. That’s not something we do to make ourselves different from other Christians, it’s not just one of those odd Catholic things we do. That water is there to remind us of our baptism. So when we make the sign of the cross with holy water, we can give thanks to God for the gift of baptism. We can hear again in our hearts, “You are my beloved son; you are my beloved daughter.”
The second suggestion I have is something that I learned from my own parents. When we were children, my siblings and I each had a candle with our patron saint on it. Each year, on the anniversary of our baptism, we got to light that candle and watch it burn in front of us as we ate our dinner on the “You Are Special Today” placemat. How many of us know the anniversary of our baptism? (I have to confess that I had forgotten mine. I called my mother on Friday to find it out.) But, if we celebrate our birthday with such joy, why should we not celebrate the day of our birth into eternal life with even greater joy? Perhaps we could resolve today to find out the date of our baptism and to write it on our calendars. Then, when that day comes around, we can thank God in a special way on that day for what He has given us in that sacrament. On that day, we could renew the vows we made or that our parents made for us, when we promised to follow Christ unreservedly.
The patron saint of our beloved Archdiocese is St. Louis of France. He was a very powerful man, king of a vast kingdom. He had immense riches at his disposal, countless servants at his beck and call. He had been crowned king in what was surely a magnificent ceremony in Rheims Cathedral. And yet, he wrote these words:
“I think more of the place where I was baptized than of Rheims Cathedral where I was crowned. It is a greater thing to be a child of God than to be the ruler of a kingdom: the first I shall lose at death, but the other will be my passport to an everlasting glory.”
St. Louis knew what was important. He was a wise and holy king because he knew the dignity he possessed as a baptized follower of Christ. Today, may we be grateful for the gift of that sacrament. May we allow the grace of that sacrament to be nourished at this altar, that we may each continue to progress towards everlasting glory, that glory to which we were invited at the moment of our baptism.
Monday, December 29, 2008
An Ordinary Family, A Holy Family
St. Joseph Church (Cottleville)
Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph
December 28, 2008 - 12:15 p.m.
Gen 15:1-6; 21:1-3
Heb 11:8, 11-12, 17-19
Lk 2:22-40
I haven’t really spent any time shopping these past few days, but I’m guessing most of the stores have taken down their Christmas decorations and are returning quickly to business as usual. The Christmas music has disappeared from the radio stations that started playing it the day after Halloween, and many will soon be taking down the Christmas lights they spent long hours putting up not too long ago. But the beautiful thing for us as Catholics is that for us the celebration has just begun. The Church gives us an entire liturgical season to reflect upon the mystery of the Incarnation. She gives us a whole series of feasts that get at the meaning of this one event. And so today we come to the Feast of the Holy Family. We reflect upon the mystery of Christmas, of the birth of God as a man, from the context in which it all took place – a human family.
God became part of an ordinary human family. Today’s Gospel tells us that their life was not one of luxury and comfort. The Jewish law demanded that a woman offer a lamb and a turtledove as a sacrifice for her purification after childbirth. A lamb was a very costly sacrifice, and so the law allowed for an “Offering of the Poor.” Those who could not afford a lamb were given permission to bring another turtledove in its place. This is what Mary and Joseph brought to the Temple.
Mary, Joseph, and their child lived as any other Jewish family would have in their day. Jesus was raised as any Jewish boy would have been. His parents taught Him the history of their people. We can imagine St. Joseph taking his son outside their home in Nazareth and telling Jesus to look up at the stars. He would have told Him that when Abraham looked upon those same stars, he saw one lit for Jesus, for He was one of those innumerable children of Abraham, a child of the covenant. Jesus would have learned the trade of carpentry from St. Joseph. Our Lady certainly cared tenderly for her Son and also cared for the home, tireless spending herself out of love for her husband and her son. This family knew the great joys of life together, and it knew many trials and sufferings.
Today we look upon this ordinary human family, and we call it the Holy Family. It was holy not because of any amazing deeds performed but because God Himself dwelt in their home in the flesh. It was holy because a man and woman welcomed the Son of God into their home and spent the entirety of their lives with Him as their primary love. Because Jesus Christ dwelt in that Nazareth home with Mary and Joseph, their seemingly ordinary life became extraordinary. It became holy.
And so it is for us. Whether we live in a home of mother, father, and 12 children, alone as a widow, or anything in between, Jesus Christ wants to dwell in our homes. He wants to make our seemingly ordinary lives into something extraordinary. He wants to make our humble lives into something beautiful for His Father. This is yet another wondrous truth of the Christmas mystery. Every little thing we do, if we do it out of love for God and neighbor, becomes a source of sanctification for us. It is from our participation in Holy Mass that we gain the grace we need to live in God’s presence throughout the week. But holiness doesn’t merely mean coming to Mass every Sunday. What we do here at Mass on Sunday should extend into our homes throughout the week. Just as we begin Mass by recognizing our sinfulness, so in our families we should always be ready to forgive. Just as we listen to stories of salvation history in the Mass readings, so in our families we share our own experiences and listen to the other members of our family as they share theirs. At Mass we offer bread and wine to God the Father to be consecrated into the flesh and blood of His Son. In our homes, we should offer all of our joys and our sufferings to Him. Just as Christ gives Himself to us in Holy Communion, so should we be willing to give of ourselves totally out of love to the other members of our family.
Our homes, then, should be domestic churches. Christ should be welcome in our homes. All it takes is simple, ordinary things – praying together as a family before meals or praying the Rosary together. It means doing basic household chores – sweeping, dusting, dishes, trash – with great love for God and for the other members of our family. Every part of our home, every part of family life can be holy. The kitchen counter, the computer desk, the dining room table – all of these can become the altars of our homes, places where we offer our lives to God.
St. Therese of Lisieux knew this lesson well. The history of our Church has given us many heroic saints, saints like Thomas Aquinas, who wrote volumes of brilliant theology, saints like Maximilian Kolbe, who gave his life in a concentration camp so another could live. The list could go on. Therese desired to do something heroic. She wanted to be a missionary, an apostle, a martyr, but she died at the age of 24 after an obscure life in the convent. Almost immediately after her death, however, her fame spread as people began entrusting their prayers to her. It was because of her “Little Way.” Her life has taught us that holiness isn’t achieved from great, heroic deeds but from offering simple, ordinary things to the Lord with great love. Just this past year her parents were beatified, as the Church came to recognize her holiness of life as the fruit of her parents’ holiness. They are a modern example of a holy family, of the special grace of family life alive still in our world.
May we pour out our hearts to our Lord today around this holy altar. Then, when we return home, may we offer Him our home as His dwelling. It is only when we ask Him to sanctify our families and our homes that we will begin to see a transformation of all of society, because society is built on the family. As the family goes, so goes the world. Let us welcome Christ into our families and homes anew this Christmas and so do our part to transform the culture of death into the civilization of life and of love.
Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph
December 28, 2008 - 12:15 p.m.
Gen 15:1-6; 21:1-3
Heb 11:8, 11-12, 17-19
Lk 2:22-40
I haven’t really spent any time shopping these past few days, but I’m guessing most of the stores have taken down their Christmas decorations and are returning quickly to business as usual. The Christmas music has disappeared from the radio stations that started playing it the day after Halloween, and many will soon be taking down the Christmas lights they spent long hours putting up not too long ago. But the beautiful thing for us as Catholics is that for us the celebration has just begun. The Church gives us an entire liturgical season to reflect upon the mystery of the Incarnation. She gives us a whole series of feasts that get at the meaning of this one event. And so today we come to the Feast of the Holy Family. We reflect upon the mystery of Christmas, of the birth of God as a man, from the context in which it all took place – a human family.
God became part of an ordinary human family. Today’s Gospel tells us that their life was not one of luxury and comfort. The Jewish law demanded that a woman offer a lamb and a turtledove as a sacrifice for her purification after childbirth. A lamb was a very costly sacrifice, and so the law allowed for an “Offering of the Poor.” Those who could not afford a lamb were given permission to bring another turtledove in its place. This is what Mary and Joseph brought to the Temple.
Mary, Joseph, and their child lived as any other Jewish family would have in their day. Jesus was raised as any Jewish boy would have been. His parents taught Him the history of their people. We can imagine St. Joseph taking his son outside their home in Nazareth and telling Jesus to look up at the stars. He would have told Him that when Abraham looked upon those same stars, he saw one lit for Jesus, for He was one of those innumerable children of Abraham, a child of the covenant. Jesus would have learned the trade of carpentry from St. Joseph. Our Lady certainly cared tenderly for her Son and also cared for the home, tireless spending herself out of love for her husband and her son. This family knew the great joys of life together, and it knew many trials and sufferings.
Today we look upon this ordinary human family, and we call it the Holy Family. It was holy not because of any amazing deeds performed but because God Himself dwelt in their home in the flesh. It was holy because a man and woman welcomed the Son of God into their home and spent the entirety of their lives with Him as their primary love. Because Jesus Christ dwelt in that Nazareth home with Mary and Joseph, their seemingly ordinary life became extraordinary. It became holy.
And so it is for us. Whether we live in a home of mother, father, and 12 children, alone as a widow, or anything in between, Jesus Christ wants to dwell in our homes. He wants to make our seemingly ordinary lives into something extraordinary. He wants to make our humble lives into something beautiful for His Father. This is yet another wondrous truth of the Christmas mystery. Every little thing we do, if we do it out of love for God and neighbor, becomes a source of sanctification for us. It is from our participation in Holy Mass that we gain the grace we need to live in God’s presence throughout the week. But holiness doesn’t merely mean coming to Mass every Sunday. What we do here at Mass on Sunday should extend into our homes throughout the week. Just as we begin Mass by recognizing our sinfulness, so in our families we should always be ready to forgive. Just as we listen to stories of salvation history in the Mass readings, so in our families we share our own experiences and listen to the other members of our family as they share theirs. At Mass we offer bread and wine to God the Father to be consecrated into the flesh and blood of His Son. In our homes, we should offer all of our joys and our sufferings to Him. Just as Christ gives Himself to us in Holy Communion, so should we be willing to give of ourselves totally out of love to the other members of our family.
Our homes, then, should be domestic churches. Christ should be welcome in our homes. All it takes is simple, ordinary things – praying together as a family before meals or praying the Rosary together. It means doing basic household chores – sweeping, dusting, dishes, trash – with great love for God and for the other members of our family. Every part of our home, every part of family life can be holy. The kitchen counter, the computer desk, the dining room table – all of these can become the altars of our homes, places where we offer our lives to God.
St. Therese of Lisieux knew this lesson well. The history of our Church has given us many heroic saints, saints like Thomas Aquinas, who wrote volumes of brilliant theology, saints like Maximilian Kolbe, who gave his life in a concentration camp so another could live. The list could go on. Therese desired to do something heroic. She wanted to be a missionary, an apostle, a martyr, but she died at the age of 24 after an obscure life in the convent. Almost immediately after her death, however, her fame spread as people began entrusting their prayers to her. It was because of her “Little Way.” Her life has taught us that holiness isn’t achieved from great, heroic deeds but from offering simple, ordinary things to the Lord with great love. Just this past year her parents were beatified, as the Church came to recognize her holiness of life as the fruit of her parents’ holiness. They are a modern example of a holy family, of the special grace of family life alive still in our world.
May we pour out our hearts to our Lord today around this holy altar. Then, when we return home, may we offer Him our home as His dwelling. It is only when we ask Him to sanctify our families and our homes that we will begin to see a transformation of all of society, because society is built on the family. As the family goes, so goes the world. Let us welcome Christ into our families and homes anew this Christmas and so do our part to transform the culture of death into the civilization of life and of love.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Fiat: Let it be!
St. Joseph Church (Cottleville)
Fourth Sunday of Advent
December 20-21, 2008 - 5:00 p.m. & 7:00 a.m.
2 Sm 7:1-5, 8b-12, 14a, 16
Ps 89
Rom 16:25-27
Lk 1:26-38
On the previous two Sundays, we heard about St. John the Baptist’s mission of preparing the way for Christ. Today the Church directs our minds and hearts to the Blessed Virgin Mary, in whose womb our Lord was conceived at the Annunciation. It is interesting to compare the announcement of John’s birth to his father, Zechariah, and the announcement of Christ’s birth to His mother, Mary. The accounts of these two annunciations seem very similar. Holy fear came over both of them when they encountered the archangel, Gabriel. In each case, the angel spoke of wondrous deeds the child would do. Both of them asked how it was possible for what Gabriel had said to come about – Zechariah because of his and Elizabeth’s advanced age, Mary because she was a virgin. But there is one striking difference we can’t ignore. Zechariah is admonished. The angel takes away his ability to speak. Mary, on the other hand, is praised. “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you! . . . You have found favor with God.”
If both had questioned the angel’s words, asking how it was possible for his words to be fulfilled, why was Zechariah punished and Mary exalted? The answer isn’t clear from a superficial view of these annunciations. We must look deeper, to the interior attitudes of these two children of Israel. Although each had questioned the angel’s words, the attitude underlying their questions were radically different. Zechariah, it seems, was a skeptic. He questioned the angel because he doubted what had been proclaimed to him. We can almost hear him saying to the angel, “I don’t believe you. This is impossible. Don’t you see how old I am?” Mary, on the other hand, must have asked her question in faith. Hers was a marveling in wonder and awe at what had been said to her. We could paraphrase her words as well: “How can this be? What a wondrous thing the Lord wants to work in me, for I am yet a virgin.” Zechariah responds to the angel with pride and doubt, Mary in humility and faith.
Zechariah falls in line with all of humanity from the first man and woman, from the time of the fall. The sin of Adam and Eve was one of pride and doubt. They succumbed to the serpent’s suggestion that God was hiding something from them, that He had something great that He was keeping from them, that they would have to snatch for it themselves. So it was that they doubted God’s love and His goodness and in pride they disobeyed the one law they had been given and ate from the tree of knowledge of good and evil.
Mary stands in utter contrast, and it is for this reason that she is so exalted by the angel and for all generations afterward. Unlike Adam and Eve, unlike Zechariah, she has complete faith that God has her best interests in mind. She believes that by sending her His angel, God the Father is not trying to deceive her but instead to give her every good gift. Zechariah had been struck dumb by his doubt. In faith, on the other hand, Mary is able to speak the most important words spoken in the history of creation: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”
In the 2nd century, St. Irenaeus expressed very beautifully what Mary’s words meant. “The knot of Eve’s disobedience,” he says, “was untied by Mary’s obedience: what the virgin Eve bound through her disbelief, Mary loosened by her faith” (Adv. haeres.). The Catechism also states this truth beautifully: “In the faith of this humble handmaid, the Gift of God found the acceptance he had awaited from the beginning of time” (2617). After millennia of pride and doubt, God the Father, in the fullness of time, finally received the humble and faith-filled consent of one of His creatures.
We often call these history-changing words of Mary her fiat. Fiat is a Latin word. It means, “Let it be done.” This sums up the attitude of Mary in response to the will of God: “Let it be.” Mary spoke her fiat first to the Archangel Gabriel. Yet her heart spoke it again and again throughout her life to God. Even before Gabriel came to her, her life was spotless. She constantly said to God in her heart, “Fiat. Let it be.” And after the birth of Christ, she would have to speak this word again and again. As she raised the Christ-child in her home at Nazareth: Fiat. When it came time for Him to leave her so that He could begin His public ministry: Fiat. Most of all, when she watched her only Son die in agony on the cross, when her own heart was pierced: Fiat.
One modern-day saint who knew this fiat well was Blessed Teresa of Calcutta. It wasn’t until after she died that Mother Teresa’s profound interior life became well-known. Her mission of caring for the poor was firmly rooted and made sense only in the context of her deep life of prayer. So committed was she to doing the Lord’s will in her life that she took a fourth vow when she became a religious sister. Like all consecrated women, she took vows of poverty chastity and obedience. But she sought an even more radical union with Christ, so she took a private fourth vow. She describes it in this way: “I made a vow to God, binding under [pain of] mortal sin, to give God anything that He may ask, ‘Not to refuse Him anything’” (Come, Be My Light, 28). This is Mary’s fiat bearing fruit in our own time. Mother Teresa suffered much. Not only did she live in material poverty but also in spiritual poverty, with very few consolations from the Lord. And yet, throughout her life, she never went back on her vow to refuse the Lord nothing.
As Christmas draws near again this year, may our own refrain be the same. Let us say with our Blessed Mother, let us say with Blessed Teresa, “Fiat: let it be done to me according to your word, O Lord.” We must strive to renew this promise each day. We must strive each day to hand over to the Lord whatever it is that we cling to, whatever it is that we keep from Him out of pride and doubt. It can be any number of things: a teaching of the Church we can’t seem to accept, a burdensome illness we struggle to embrace, a call to make a difficult decision. Whatever we cling to, whatever we are afraid of, let us beg the Lord to give us the grace this Christmas to hand it over to Him. To speak, in union with our Lady, those words that summarize the entire Christian life: “Fiat: Let it be.” A simple warning: This word of humility and faith will likely not make our lives easier. In fact, when we submit our wills to God’s will, He often asks things of us that we would not choose for ourselves. At the same time, however, even pain and suffering become beautiful burdens, because they are carried in union with Christ, and it is that union that will lead us on the sure path to life eternal, to the vision of His glory, and to the fullness of communion with all the angels and saints in the never-ending banquet of the kingdom of heaven.
Fourth Sunday of Advent
December 20-21, 2008 - 5:00 p.m. & 7:00 a.m.
2 Sm 7:1-5, 8b-12, 14a, 16
Ps 89
Rom 16:25-27
Lk 1:26-38
On the previous two Sundays, we heard about St. John the Baptist’s mission of preparing the way for Christ. Today the Church directs our minds and hearts to the Blessed Virgin Mary, in whose womb our Lord was conceived at the Annunciation. It is interesting to compare the announcement of John’s birth to his father, Zechariah, and the announcement of Christ’s birth to His mother, Mary. The accounts of these two annunciations seem very similar. Holy fear came over both of them when they encountered the archangel, Gabriel. In each case, the angel spoke of wondrous deeds the child would do. Both of them asked how it was possible for what Gabriel had said to come about – Zechariah because of his and Elizabeth’s advanced age, Mary because she was a virgin. But there is one striking difference we can’t ignore. Zechariah is admonished. The angel takes away his ability to speak. Mary, on the other hand, is praised. “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you! . . . You have found favor with God.”
If both had questioned the angel’s words, asking how it was possible for his words to be fulfilled, why was Zechariah punished and Mary exalted? The answer isn’t clear from a superficial view of these annunciations. We must look deeper, to the interior attitudes of these two children of Israel. Although each had questioned the angel’s words, the attitude underlying their questions were radically different. Zechariah, it seems, was a skeptic. He questioned the angel because he doubted what had been proclaimed to him. We can almost hear him saying to the angel, “I don’t believe you. This is impossible. Don’t you see how old I am?” Mary, on the other hand, must have asked her question in faith. Hers was a marveling in wonder and awe at what had been said to her. We could paraphrase her words as well: “How can this be? What a wondrous thing the Lord wants to work in me, for I am yet a virgin.” Zechariah responds to the angel with pride and doubt, Mary in humility and faith.
Zechariah falls in line with all of humanity from the first man and woman, from the time of the fall. The sin of Adam and Eve was one of pride and doubt. They succumbed to the serpent’s suggestion that God was hiding something from them, that He had something great that He was keeping from them, that they would have to snatch for it themselves. So it was that they doubted God’s love and His goodness and in pride they disobeyed the one law they had been given and ate from the tree of knowledge of good and evil.
Mary stands in utter contrast, and it is for this reason that she is so exalted by the angel and for all generations afterward. Unlike Adam and Eve, unlike Zechariah, she has complete faith that God has her best interests in mind. She believes that by sending her His angel, God the Father is not trying to deceive her but instead to give her every good gift. Zechariah had been struck dumb by his doubt. In faith, on the other hand, Mary is able to speak the most important words spoken in the history of creation: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”
In the 2nd century, St. Irenaeus expressed very beautifully what Mary’s words meant. “The knot of Eve’s disobedience,” he says, “was untied by Mary’s obedience: what the virgin Eve bound through her disbelief, Mary loosened by her faith” (Adv. haeres.). The Catechism also states this truth beautifully: “In the faith of this humble handmaid, the Gift of God found the acceptance he had awaited from the beginning of time” (2617). After millennia of pride and doubt, God the Father, in the fullness of time, finally received the humble and faith-filled consent of one of His creatures.
We often call these history-changing words of Mary her fiat. Fiat is a Latin word. It means, “Let it be done.” This sums up the attitude of Mary in response to the will of God: “Let it be.” Mary spoke her fiat first to the Archangel Gabriel. Yet her heart spoke it again and again throughout her life to God. Even before Gabriel came to her, her life was spotless. She constantly said to God in her heart, “Fiat. Let it be.” And after the birth of Christ, she would have to speak this word again and again. As she raised the Christ-child in her home at Nazareth: Fiat. When it came time for Him to leave her so that He could begin His public ministry: Fiat. Most of all, when she watched her only Son die in agony on the cross, when her own heart was pierced: Fiat.
One modern-day saint who knew this fiat well was Blessed Teresa of Calcutta. It wasn’t until after she died that Mother Teresa’s profound interior life became well-known. Her mission of caring for the poor was firmly rooted and made sense only in the context of her deep life of prayer. So committed was she to doing the Lord’s will in her life that she took a fourth vow when she became a religious sister. Like all consecrated women, she took vows of poverty chastity and obedience. But she sought an even more radical union with Christ, so she took a private fourth vow. She describes it in this way: “I made a vow to God, binding under [pain of] mortal sin, to give God anything that He may ask, ‘Not to refuse Him anything’” (Come, Be My Light, 28). This is Mary’s fiat bearing fruit in our own time. Mother Teresa suffered much. Not only did she live in material poverty but also in spiritual poverty, with very few consolations from the Lord. And yet, throughout her life, she never went back on her vow to refuse the Lord nothing.
As Christmas draws near again this year, may our own refrain be the same. Let us say with our Blessed Mother, let us say with Blessed Teresa, “Fiat: let it be done to me according to your word, O Lord.” We must strive to renew this promise each day. We must strive each day to hand over to the Lord whatever it is that we cling to, whatever it is that we keep from Him out of pride and doubt. It can be any number of things: a teaching of the Church we can’t seem to accept, a burdensome illness we struggle to embrace, a call to make a difficult decision. Whatever we cling to, whatever we are afraid of, let us beg the Lord to give us the grace this Christmas to hand it over to Him. To speak, in union with our Lady, those words that summarize the entire Christian life: “Fiat: Let it be.” A simple warning: This word of humility and faith will likely not make our lives easier. In fact, when we submit our wills to God’s will, He often asks things of us that we would not choose for ourselves. At the same time, however, even pain and suffering become beautiful burdens, because they are carried in union with Christ, and it is that union that will lead us on the sure path to life eternal, to the vision of His glory, and to the fullness of communion with all the angels and saints in the never-ending banquet of the kingdom of heaven.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
