FEAST OF ST. VINCENT DE PAUL
September, 2008
Financial turmoil; widespread hunger and disease; ethnic and civil wars; natural disasters; political intrigue; inadequate education; healthcare disparities; fear of feeling abandoned by God. While these could be the headlines of Sept. 27, 2008, in reality, they were the same issues facing a humble French peasant in 17th century France. He took the mission of Jesus Christ to heart, transforming service into charity while galvanizing others to be a part of his dream. His “family members” literally encircle the globe today, providing a worldwide web of charity. His name is Vincent DePaul and as members of a Vincentian parish, we are the descendants of his legacy. As we celebrate the 348th anniversary of the death of St. Vincent, what can we learn from his experience and wisdom?
Vincent possessed an unwavering confidence in God’s providential care for the world. This is “the good which God desires” for each person. He faced some of the same challenges we face today, but he doggedly trusted that providing spiritual and physical assistance for the most abandoned people of his day would ultimately be transformative. He looked at the events of each day, and trusted that God was somehow being revealed; then, after reflecting on his experience, he acted with determination, enlisting the collaborative efforts of many people to effect change. Do you believe that in the midst of the suffering and distress of our world, God is still actively transforming the world and each of us into Christ? How are you a part of this transformation?
“Empty yourself in order to put on Jesus Christ. When our Lord imprints his mark on us and gives us his Spirit and grace, we, being united to Him as the branches are united to the vine, will do what He did when He was on earth.” (Letter to A. Durand, 1656)
In this letter to one of his priests, Vincent simply puts forward what being Vincentian means: to proclaim good news to people who so desperately need to hear it because that was the mission of Jesus. In that process, mysteriously, we who offer service are transformed into Christ. It takes profound humility to put aside one’s ego in order to make room for Christ to be implanted in our hearts, minds and souls. What are you doing to further this openness in your life?
Finally, Vincent remarked that “We must sanctify our works by seeking God in them and by doing them in order to find God in them rather than just to get them done.” It is not enough in a Vincentian parish to be efficient about completing tasks. At the heart of the mission of Jesus, and our mission, is to be people of both prayer and service. Prayer is empty without service, but service without prayer may simply become an ego trip. How are you finding God in your works of service at our parish?
As we celebrate this feast of St. Vincent DePaul, may we trust in the providence of God, open ourselves to Jesus Christ, and pray for the transforming grace of the Holy Spirit!
TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME
God’s Abundance is More Than Enough for All
“That’s not fair!” might be a clamor about today’s reading from the Gospel of Matthew. Why do the workers who show up at the last minute get the same wages as those who arrived early in the morning and put in a hard day’s work? But listen to the opening sentence from the reading: “Jesus told his disciples this parable.” Parables are stories that are more than stories; their many layers always leave us thinking. Their meaning, not to be taken literally, lies beyond the obvious. And it’s obvious that it’s not fair that the latecomers received the same pay as the early birds. But this parable isn’t about the obvious.
. It’s not about the workers, neither the happy nor the disgruntled. It’s about God’s abundant grace, generosity, and goodness. The landowner, who is a metaphor for God, is the focus of the parable. He (or she) is the one who lavishes grace and abundance. Are we envious because God is generous to people from whom we might withhold our own openhandedness?
Listen to the first reading from the prophet Isaiah: “Seek the Lord while he may be found. . . . My thoughts are not your thoughts.” God can be found in God’s own vineyard, but God’s method of running the vineyard might surprise us. We show up in the vineyard of our society, our church, and our parish; we can expect to contribute our services and expertise for the needs of all there working with us. If you read the parish report that was distributed in late August, you know that we have many plants in our vineyard that need tending. Many workers are needed at any time of the day. God’s abundance is more than enough for all the laborers.
Ponder:
· Where do I find God’s abundance in the vineyard of my life and the life of the parish?
How do we “seek the Lord where he may be found”?
Do:
· Decide how to contribute abilities, resources, and gifts to the vineyard of St. Catherine’s.
Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross
September 14, 2008
Suffering and Salvation
Isn’t it amazing that we base our religion on an instrument of execution intended to bring the cruelest suffering and most humiliating death to the lowest of human beings, the dregs of society. We take images of that horrible instrument and we hang them as decorations in our houses, we make jewelry in its image, and we trace its image over our bodies whenever we pray.
We are a religion of the cross and of all that it stood for. We do not run away from suffering and death, but rather we transform them into salvation and resurrection. We do not run away from humiliation, but rather we joyfully accept humiliation for the sake of the glory of God. We do not run away from the lowest of human beings, but rather we embrace them as other Christs.
When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all men to myself, says the Lord. The powers of this world are nothing compared to the power of the cross of Christ.
“Christ in His boundless love freely underwent His passion and death because of the sins of all men, so that all might attain salvation. It is, therefore, the duty of the Church’s preaching to proclaim the cross of Christ as the sign of God’s all-embracing love and as the fountain from which every grace flows.” Vatican 2
Gerald Darring
Center for Liturgy
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time
It’s OK not to talk about it
For many people it helps to talk about how they feel when something traumatic happens to them or they have suffered a loss. But not everyone. A university study not long ago found that people who did not talk about their inner pain “can cope quite successfully,” said researcher Mark Seery, “and, according to our results, are likely to be better off than someone who does want to express his or her own feelings.” So express yourself—or not—in a way that is healthy for you and, in the spirit of Christian love, respect the ways others choose to express themselves.
Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time
August 31, 2008
Jesus tells us that he must “suffer greatly”…”be killed”…”and on the third day be raised”. After rebuking Peter’s objection, Jesus adds, “Whoever wished to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wished to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”
These are hard words for us to digest. With Peter, we too, recoil. What does Jesus mean, “Take up your cross and follow me”? In Jesus’ day the worst sentence a criminal could expect was crucifixion. While the early Christians anticipated the worst, and often did die for their loyalty to Jesus, we don’t ordinarily anticipate that fate today. But the sacrifice of self in fidelity to God stands at the heart of being a Christian. Emptying ourselves for something larger than ourselves is the path to personal and Christian maturity.
And yet, we live in a era where one is not supposed to suffer in any way. Medicine, doctors, psychiatrists, magic diets and so many other quickie technologies are constantly being proposed to us as the way to relieve or avoid every kind of suffering, inconvenience, worry, or pain. At a deeper level, so much of the culture today tells us that the ego, self-interest, the individual is the measure of all. But the attentive, reflective, prayerful heart knows better.
Suffering comes to us in one way or another whether one wants it or not. It need not be sought out. Suffering teaches us our limits. It opens us to our createdness. In owning our creatureliness, we discover our ground in God. In union with Jesus we learn that in actively sacrificing ourselves, giving ourselves for others, we find our deepest meaning, our true joy.
Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Full circle
When it comes to learning, there is a definite circular pattern to our lives. During the earliest years of childhood, almost everything we know comes from our lived experience. As we grow older and learn to read and think in abstractions, we obtain more and more of our knowledge from books and other “experts”—and as a result, we trust ourselves less and less. Eventually in our later years we realize that our truth has been within all along and we begin trusting our own experience again. Perhaps this pattern is what the artist Pablo Picasso was thinking about when he said, “It takes a long time to become young.” Where are you on the circle?
Today’s readings: Zechariah 9:9-10; Romans 8:9, 11-13;
Matthew 11:25-30
“You have hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and have revealed them to infants.”
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Solemnity of Peter and Paul, apostles
Passion in action
Today we remember and celebrate the lives of two very different men who nevertheless had one important characteristic in common: passion. Their passionate love for Jesus found divergent outlets and took different forms, but this quality above all is what makes their words and deeds so compelling, even 2,000 years later. To be passionate about an idea, a cause, our faith is a great gift. But passion requires action. Today is a good day to pause and consider what our passions are. Then ask, “Does my life reflect my passions?”
Today’s readings: Acts 12:1-11; 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 17-18; Matthew 16:13-19
“Who do you say that I am?”
TWELFTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME
Not Going Anywhere
Jesus is encouraging to us in Sunday’s Gospel. “Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin? Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s knowledge. Even all the hairs of your head are counted. So do not be afraid.”
God loves us each in the tiniest detail! God being is infinite, so he has time and space for all persons on earth and above and under the earth. There is a corollary about our ability to receive the love of God.
Each human being is created to be a dwelling place for God and his love.
We can never be truly human unless the greatest value in each of our lives is to receive the love of God and give it to the people around us.
I realize that our culture would never buy such a proposition. On television we see people seeking ease, beauty, convenience, pleasure and so on. Quite often on cable channels and now on broadcast channels, one could conclude that the human person is made for one purpose only: sex.
Someone has said that commercials, without realizing it, are built to encourage the seven Capital Sins (pride, gluttony, avarice, lust, sloth, envy and anger). Jot down that list, put it by your television and put a check mark behind each one when it is promoted.
Alright, we human beings get attached to or fascinated by many things. But if each of us is created to be a place where God and his love can dwell, then any other fascination we have should be left aside if it begins to take over God’s place.
So if I am attached to wealth, or my stamp collection, or my good looks, or drugs, or even my mate—in a way that makes God’s love take second (or third or fiftieth) place—then my life is disordered and I am headed for a fall.
How do you react to this corollary? “You mean I am to love God only and not care about my friends, my family, music, sports, food, health, etc.? Not care about anything except God?”
Not at all. Healthy love of all these things has its roots in love of God. All things get their own individual value from God’s indwelling. Each person, each blade of grass receives its full value of love because it proceeds from God’s gentle hand.
Whoever takes this proposition seriously will live a full human life.
But I can hear the reader saying right now that it is too difficult. So many things get in the way. Have a look through your life and see how often you forget God, who is your source. Peter remembered that he had actually deserted Jesus at least three times and he said “Leave me, Lord, I am a sinful man.” How many times have you and I been the same way?
So, does the proposition really apply just to those who never sin?
Not at all. “If you sin, I will not leave you, I will love you,” God has said throughout the ages. The cross of Jesus is the ultimate statement of that truth. God’s love remains constant and dear, in spite of the rampant sin in all of us and each of us. His love will make us get closer to the goal.
Rejoice. No matter how many hairs you have on your head, God’s love does not go away.
Receive it.
Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time June 8, 2008
COUNTING FOR SOMETHING
This Sunday we hear that Jesus spent a lot of time with sinners and outcasts. Of course, the culture of his time and place forbade eating with such people, but he did it anyway. He even accepted Matthew as an apostle—a member of the hated group called tax collectors.
In Sunday’s Gospel the Pharisees summed all this up in a question. "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" Jesus overheard the question and gave this response: “I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.”
It is an enigmatic answer, but it tells us a lot about Our Lord and his mission. For one thing, he does not need to go after those who have heard the call. They are already in process. So his heart goes out to the ones who have strayed, who have not answered his call or even heard it. A simple way to put it is that he loves sinners and he loves the shamed. You and I do not need to be afraid if we find guilt in ourselves.
Another thought: What if Jesus had added to his statement something like this: “Those who have experienced poverty and sin are more able to open their ears and listen to the Word. You rich, well placed people have a much tougher time of it.” In fact he did say it in another place.
How could this be? Well-placed people have ears like the rest of us. If the sound enters their heads, what could be the problem?
But there is a difference between listening and paying attention while listening.
Paying attention means allowing the real meaning of someone’s words sink down into yourself, light up some lights in you, and then to respond appropriately. There is not always time to do this, of course, but if the one speaking and calling is Jesus, maybe you need to take some time and attend to what he says.
Did you ever go through a reception line where the celebrity or politician greeted you but had his or her head turned away, looking to the next person while seeming to listen to you? Did it seem like you really counted for something?
But you do count for something, even if fear and doubt fill you. Whatever it is that you do in order to mask your fear probably stops you from really hearing. Maybe you need to be impoverished!
Don’t get me wrong. Impoverished people are not guaranteed fault-free, far from it. But maybe their sorrows are digging out souls in them that respond tenderly to words of care. Or to laughter. Or tears. Or God’s love.
Remember Mary of Bethany? She sat at Jesus’ feet listening with fascination while Martha worked and worked on the dinner. Which one was distracted? According to Jesus, Mary had chosen “the one thing necessary,” she kept Jesus in mind, “and it would not be taken away from her.”
Alright, what about you and me? Are we getting by without paying attention? Are we in one of our usual ruts regarding our family or ourfellow workers or friends—or Jesus? Ask whether you have chosen the one thing necessary, the only thing that will not be taken away from you.
Ask yourself whether Jesus would dine with you.
NINTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME June 1, 2008
Jesus was skeptical about good deeds at the end of his famous “Sermon on the Mount” (this Sunday’s Gospel). He says,
Many will say to me on that day,
Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name?
Did we not drive out demons in your name?
Did we not do mighty deeds in your name?
They were bragging. Jesus replies,
I will declare to them solemnly,
I never knew you. Depart from me, you evildoers.
These words are strong. The people had done sensational deeds. But maybe for selfish reasons.
Jesus tells about two houses built on different kinds of land. You know the story. The smart builder puts his on solid ground. The less experienced one (Jesus uses the word “fool”) chooses sand. Large rains fall, floods sweep through, and winds blow and batter both houses. As you know, the first stayed safe, the other washed down the valley in little pieces.
His message? Take care to build the foundations of your life on solid ground, that is, on doing the will of Jesus’ Father in heaven. The lady in Ireland had obviously borne his words out. Her life was strong enough to stand up to the possible loss of a mere car.
Jesus is arguing here for the entire, strong Sermon On The Mount, not just on what we hear this Sunday. From it came the Beatitudes, the new law of Christ, the Lord’s prayer, instructions on praying, attitudes about money, and the warnings we have just seen about hypocrisy.
Why don’t you take a few minutes and read this entire sermon? It is in the 5th, 6th, and 7th chapters of Matthew. Where are you building your house?
THE SOLEMNITY OF THE MOST HOLY TRINITY May 18, 2008
Bird, Butterfly, Breeze
(By Regina Siegfried, ASC)
How do we name the Unnameable; what do we call Mystery? These questions are behind much of the story of the book of Exodus. The account for today's reading is several chapters later than Moses' encounter recounted in Exodus, chapter 3 where God says, “I am who am.” The Lord, the name given in today's reading, is an English translation for the Hebrew Yahweh. Since some Jewish people consider the name for the Unnameable too holy to pronounce, Adonai is a frequent substitution.
In the reading from Paul's second letter to the Corinthians, the familiar Trinitarian formula concludes the section: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.” We hear that during the liturgy as we try to call Mystery into our presence and place ourselves in the presence of a God who is beyond anything we can imagine. Names establish relationships. That's what we do as we stumble to name a God who loves us into being and keeps us in God's tender care.
The feast of the Trinity, a day that celebrates a mystery beyond comprehension, is a Sunday about God's relationship with God's own self and with us. Any of the PSR kids could probably tell us that there are three persons in one God. We might not understand that any better than they do. Comprehending mystery is an exercise in futility; relationship with God is the foundation of our life in Christ. We believe in a God who is Creator, Redeemer and Spirit and whose very life as three-in-one impels us to reflect on our relationship in a community of believers.
The American poet Emily Dickinson playfully and profoundly ends her poem # 18 with an image of the Trinity:
In the name of the Bee--
And of the Butterfly--
And of the Breeze—Amen!
God the creator, Jesus the Risen One, and the Spirit as elusive and as powerful as wind (recall Pentecost's mighty wind) is the God we traditionally call Father, Son, and Spirit. It can help to imagine creative ways to name the Unnameable and address infinite Mystery.
Pentecost May 11, 2008 THE GIFT OF SHARING
There is too much to talk about on Pentecost weekend . Just look at all that is happening on this feast of the Holy Spirit. The end of our extended Easter celebration—had you remembered that Easter season has lasted for all these weeks? And the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise to send the Holy Spirit (the Paraclete, the Comforter).
And then the startling results that this Paraclete brings about. Apostles began speaking in tongues! Jews from all different lands and languages had gathered and each understood the disciples’ words without any translation (Acts 2:1-11)! The Holy Spirit means to bring us together, to allay differences, to hear the other person, not just react.
Still more, the Vigil of Pentecost on Saturday night includes the profound story of the Tower of Babel. The Church put it in this place because the Holy Spirit is able to reverse the babbling of humankind. Of course, babbling is a word derived from the name “Babel” meaning “confusion of voices.”
Another striking topic is this one: the Gospel we will hear has an entirely different version of how the Holy Spirit was sent into the disciples. Instead of Luke’s “noise like a strong driving wind,” and “tongues of flame,” John’s Gospel has a quiet story. The risen Jesus appears in their midst and says “Peace be with you.” Then he continues, very simply, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” Peace and understanding result. Peace like you and I would love to have.
We spend today's reflection figuring out some way to reconcile these strikingly different stories of the same event. Which is true? How can both be accurate? In short, for me it is an example of the different ways that individuals remember any great and deeply felt event—something like the way Rashômon, that great 1950s movie, narrated the same event in very different ways according to how various characters experienced it. Each remembered according to the emotion and the perspective they had.
But how are we to deal with the great diversity? The end of Easter season, reversal of the babbling, fulfillment of Jesus’ promise of the Paraclete, driving winds, flames hanging over heads, peace, and above all, the act of sending of the Holy Spirit and very different versions of the story. How are we to bring all this together?
Let us take a shortcut. What are the most important things to understand about Pentecost? First, it is the feast of the third person of the Blessed Trinity.
Second, it is based on three central facts:
• The Father is so much within Jesus that if you know Jesus you know the Father.
• If you let him, Jesus will be within you just like the Father is in him.
• This will happen by the sending of the Holy Spirit, who is the “insides” of Jesus and of the Father. The Spirit is the love they have for each other, the closeness, the great sharing.
Thus, Pentecost is not just another Sunday. It is a feast equal to Christmas and Easter themselves. It is the incarnation of the Holy Spirit into the world of men and women.
Open. Give welcome. God is placing the love that is himself deep in our own spirits.
FEEL SHEEPISH?
Jesus talks about sheep and shepherds in the Gospel. What are some facts about these wool-bearing creatures we call sheep?
Start with a comparison. Maybe you and I remember our childhood when we turned various insects on their back and watched them struggle and never achieve their proper leg-side down position unless we had mercy on them. Shepherds tell us that an unsheared sheep is the same way: completely stranded if it gets turned on its back. The shepherd carries a crook so he can turn them right-side up when they need it. That is why they follow him. He is kind and careful with his flock.
History tells us that the many shepherds all brought their small herds down to Jerusalem, and these various flocks were kept together in one big sheepfold. How, you might ask, does each shepherd retrieve the sheep that belong to him or to his boss, since there were no brands, no markings of any kind, just a fuzzy mob.
The first way is that the shepherd can call each of his sheep by name. He has been with them on the hillsides and they are no strangers to him. The one with the nick in its ear, the one with the pretty face, the one that limps. He has a name for each because they each have a personality that is special, just like human beings. When they hear their names they come and follow.
And second, the sheep recognize not only the name but the actual voice of the shepherd. It is a much loved sound to them. It belongs to the one who flipped them back on their feet, the one who shielded them from wolves, the one who led them to fresh pastures instead of the ones they had eaten down to nubs. A stranger’s voice could not have the gentle consonance of their master and friend. Of course his sheep flocked to him.
Why does Jesus use this imagery on the upcoming Fourth Sunday of Easter? I suppose you have answered the question already, but, if you will pardon the comparison, you and I are a lot like sheep. The shepherd calls them by name and the utter God of the universe (galaxy, infinity, etc.) calls each of us by name. In Jesus God knows each and every one of us better than we know ourselves. The name he confirms for each of us finds its way down to the deepest potential of our souls. By it he calls us to be most truly who we are in ourself and in God.
Like sheep, each of us knows by heart the sound of God’s voice. Alright, we may misunderstand it, ignore it, resist it, slam our ears shut to it, but in our moments of sane and solitary wholeness—or in our times of trouble—our spirits pulse to the rhythm of that voice. It resounds within us.
Like the call of the shepherd, this call is safe, in spite of wolves and wildness all around. The call lets our fear drop away, turns us right side up so that we can follow our master and friend over rocks and even through dark valleys.
Sometimes the phrase, “people are sheep,” is deemed an insult. This Sunday it is the greatest compliment we could get.
John Foley, SJ
THE ENCOUNTER
The two disciples are leaving Jerusalem. They had been caught up in the experience of following Jesus, and they were devastated by his crucifixion.
Moreover, they were undoubtedly frightened by the prospect of what might happen to them as followers of the executed master.
On their way from Jerusalem to Emmaus, they have an unusual encounter.
The man they find themselves walking with seems to understand much about the scriptures, but they aren’t able to make the connection between what he says and who he is.
It is only in welcoming him into their house and sharing a meal with him that they realize who it is they are facing: it is Jesus, the risen Lord. So moved are they by the encounter that they turn around and head back to Jerusalem, to join up with the other disciples but also to face risk and uncertainty.
They may very well have headed straight into martyrdom.
The Easter event can also turn around our lives. It can cause us to rise and come forth into the light of day, but we must be prepared for the risk and uncertainty such a conversion would entail.
“For the Church, evangelizing means bringing the good news into all the strata of humanity, and through its influence transforming humanity from within and making it new....
The purpose of evangelization is (an) interior change, and if it has to be expressed in one sentence the best way to stating it would be to say that the Church evangelizes when she seeks to convert, solely through the divine power of the message she proclaims, both the personal and collective consciences of people, the activities in which they engage, and the lives and concrete milieux which are theirs.”
Pope Paul VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi (1975) 18 |
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Second Sunday of Easter; Divine Mercy Sunday
Whose sins you forgive
In the Genesis story it says that God breathed upon the darkness of chaos to begin the work of creation. In today’s gospel story, the risen Savior breathes upon the church to carry on the work of the new creation, a spiritual kingdom freed from the corruption of sin and death. So, with every breath we take, forgiveness is ours and we in turn exhale God’s mercy into the world around us. What a gift! But with the gift comes the responsibility to forgive as we have been forgiven. Just think of all the people in your life who need to be forgiven. And you have the power to do it.
Easter Sunday March 23, 2008
This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad. Easter is the great celebration of victory of life over death.
Ours is an Easter religion. We do not deny or turn away from the evils that surround us: the wars that have killed some 100 million people in our (last) century; the poverty that grips more than half of the human race; the hunger that kills millions every year and ruins the lives of millions more; the discrimination that divides the human family into contending parties.
We do not deny these miseries, but we refuse to surrender to their power because of our faith in the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
Suffering will be vindicated; death will be overcome; a new life will arise: that is the Easter message of the paschal mystery.
Let us feast with joy in the Lord. Just as Christ passed through death to resurrection, so too will the world pass through its suffering to the glory of a new life.
There is no room for despair: our Easter faith tells us that God will raise us up and renew our lives.
“This is the ‘day which the Lord has made.’ Alleluia! Take fresh hope, brothers and sisters of the whole world! With Christ our Passover everything is possible! Christ goes forward in our future!” Pope John Paul II, Easter Message (1991) 8 |
FEAST OF THE BAPTISM OF THE LORD
TODAY BRINGS TO AN END our Christmas celebrations. And we see the third and last of the three great manifestations by which were made known to us that our God had come among us in a very special way.
Three manifestations
The first of these manifestations was through the story of the birth of Jesus in the stable at Bethlehem. The first people privileged to experience this manifestation were the shepherds, representing the poor, the sinful, and the social outcasts on whom Luke's Gospel is especially focused.
The second manifestation, the Epiphany, celebrated last Sunday, reflects Matthew's emphasis that Jesus was born not only for his own people but for people of every country and every race everywhere.
The third and final manifestation of God's presence among us through Jesus is found in all the four gospels. While the first two manifestations are linked with the birth of Jesus, this one comes at a much later date, at the moment when Jesus is about to begin his public life.
Why baptize Jesus?
We might very well wonder, along with John the Baptist, why Jesus needed to be baptized. "It is I who need baptism from you," John said to Jesus, "and yet you come to me!" All those others being baptized in the Jordan by John were doing so as a sign of repentance for their sins and as an expression of their desire to turn around their lives. How could Jesus, the Son of God, be part of this?
Total solidarity
The first answer to this is that Jesus in so doing was expressing his total solidarity with the human race, of which he was a member. He identified with them, not as a sinner but as a fellow human being. The expression of that solidarity is a much higher priority for him than any social status he might lose by being seen in the close company of confessed sinners. It was a risk he would constantly take because the needs of the sinner were more important to him than his reputation with the self-righteous. It will have its final dramatic expression as Jesus dies on a cross, executed with and like two convicted criminals. For Jesus, there was never such a thing as 'face', being valued purely on external appearance.
A "missioning" experience
However, in order to understand what is happening at the River Jordan, we have to go far beyond seeing Jesus' baptism as a matter of dealing with sinfulness.
What is being really emphasized here is the positive element of Jesus being totally accepted and confirmed by his Father. What is happening here is that Jesus, as he stands there in the River Jordan, is being 'missioned' by his Father for the work he is just about to begin. He is here getting the total endorsement of his Father for that work.
Filled with the fullness of God
As he steps out of the water, the heavens open and the Spirit of God comes down on Jesus to fill him with all God's fullness. "This is my Son, the Beloved [agapetos, the object of God's agape, his outpouring love]; in him I am deeply pleased."
This, we might say, is Jesus' Pentecost experience. It is really what the baptism in the Jordan is about. And it is only something which those with eyes of faith can see. We might also add that it is what our Baptism is really about.
Our own baptism
As a final reflection it would be useful for us today to reflect on the meaning of our own baptism and how it relates with that of Jesus.
We often hear a very simplistic description of the effects of the Sacrament of Baptism as "taking away original sin and making us children of God". Many, especially those baptized as infants, may tend to see it as a one-off ceremony imposed on them by parents which binds them to a way of life in which they have no further say.
Meaningful baptism
People have even been heard to say, "Oh! I wish I hadn't been born a Catholic!" There is absolutely no reason why people, after honest reflection, cannot not renounce their Catholic faith in favor of a way of life which gave more meaning to them. However, if we truly understand the full meaning of our Baptism this is not likely to happen.
Baptism is not, as is true of all the sacraments, an isolated ritual. It takes place in the context of our whole life. Whether we are baptized as children or as adults, what primarily is happening is that we become incorporated, em-bodied, into the Christian community.
Active members
We become - not passively, but actively - member of the Body of Christ. It can never be something imposed on us against our will. That is why, for adults, there is now a long process of initiation leading up to Baptism and, hopefully a further process of community support after the Baptism has taken place.
It is why adult Baptism is now celebrated in the presence of the whole parish community and at the Easter Vigil. 'Original sin' is taken away not so much by some spiritual sleight of hand or by the mumbling of some magic formula. Rather, if one becomes truly incorporated into a living Christian community, the sinful influences that pervade our world become reversed by our exposure to the vision of Jesus and the lived experience of a community based on love, justice and sharing.
A social event
Baptist does not and cannot produce its effects in a social vacuum. That is why the Church will not baptize those who have no likelihood of experiencing Christian community.
Then, of course, like Jesus, our baptism brings with it a serious obligation to share our faith with others both by word and example. It involves much more than simply 'saving our souls' and 'leading sinless lives'.
Living witnesses
We are called to be living witnesses of the Gospel, to be the salt of the earth, to be a city on a hill, a candle radiating light in the surrounding darkness. We are called, in short, to be united with the others in our Christian community in the building up of God's Kingdom. (One wonders how often this is the reality when one sees so many Catholics acting like total strangers to each other at a Sunday parish Eucharist!)
All those words of Isaiah, quoted above and applied to Jesus, are to be applied to each one of us as well. Our baptism is not simply some past event recorded in some dusty parish register; it is a living reality which is to be constantly deepened and enriched.
Let God our Father be able to say of us as he said of Jesus: "This is my Beloved; in this one I am very well pleased."
FEAST OF THE HOLY FAMILY
The Feast of the Holy Family honors the special and perfect relationship that exists between Jesus, Mary and Joseph. In readings and ritual we are reminded that the Holy Family provides us with models of behavior for children, mothers and fathers. And yet when we think of our own families, model behavior may not be the first thing that comes to mind. We might be tempted to think more of scenes from Everybody Loves Raymond or The Golden Girls rather than the Holy Family. These awkward days of the year around Christmas can stir up so many thoughts and feelings. During the holidays our thoughts often turn to what's not right with our families, to the problems we're facing. Some families are separated by disputes or arguments or just simple distance. Others are divided by divorce. Some are still working through the pain of mourning a loved one who died this year. Still others have major health crises with which to content. Grappling with these real life matters may have us thinking that this feast of the Holy Family is not that relevant to the experience of our own families, that the Christmas stories are pretty removed from the real world. But then we encounter the reading from St. Matthew. We hear that chilling account of Joseph taking his new family into exile to avoid the threat of death. If the story of Joseph and Mary and Jesus were to be reported in today's newspaper, how would it read? What would they be called? Homeless? Political refugees? Undocumented persons? What could be more awkward? What could be less perfect? We know how this story goes. This Holy Family would have its tragically awkward moments; it would know well what it is like to live in an imperfect world. This Holy Family would know fear and pain, separation and estrangement. Matthew's story provides us with something we really need to hear during these always holy, but sometimes awkward, days of Christmas. Jesus was born to an imperfect world, a sinful world, a world in need of redemption, a world broken in so many ways. This is the same world where we live out our lives. When we think of the Holy Family and our families in this lightthen, perhaps, we can speak of the possibilities of genuine love, with its potential for peace, even in the face of pain: perhaps, too, we can talk about families that know moments of joy in the midst of tragedy and trial; of families that experience satisfaction in heroic struggles or in the ordinary routines of daily life. Each of us can know and give love in an imperfect world because God has come as Christ to that imperfect world and loved each of us and our families.
Light to the Nations
|
This Sunday we will hear that it is Christ alone who is light to all peoples, to all the world (First Reading). Jesus' preaching, his life, his death and resurrection, became a revelation of God to every single person, no exceptions.
But how can this be? What if God is present in other world religions? How can Jesus and Christianity be the light of the world if other religions reach God also? Is there not a contradiction here?
Whatever else the bombing of New York's "World Trade Towers" did, it alerted many people in the United States to the reality of Islam. Tragically, it was the few extremists that brought this awareness, but they have very little to do with real Islam. Muslims are not some small sect of people far away with strange and negligible beliefs. They are a great people, who worship the same God we do. Their ideal is, like ours, love. They are an integral part of this country.
But, like us, they do have terrible fanatics among them who would kill to achieve domination. In the same way as the IRA in Northern Ireland, these are a very small percentage of a religion that pledges eternal fidelity to the one God. The Spirit of God is present in Muslims and Jews as well as in Christians. As St. Paul will put it this Sunday, "in every nation, whoever fears God and acts uprightly is acceptable to him."
The question of which religion contains God reminds me of children asking their parents which child they love most. "If you love her more than me," one will say, "then you don't love me at all." Now, now, children, we love each one of you in a special way, a way that is perfect just for you.
So, in the first place, let us not ask which religion is the only true one, thus making all the others false. There is not really a competition. The religions are different approaches to God, and they each bring out a special aspect of who God is to us. Jealousy and hatred of one another is an exact equivalent to dysfunctional families where each person has to fight to be recognized at all. Think of a world in which God loved only Christians and left all the others out in the cold.
A much better way is to look at how each religion and belief helps the others.
For its part, Christianity is a very special revelation to the world, because in it God enters the underside of human life. His suffering shows forth love in a way that is crystal clear, revealing what other ways need to hear. Because Jesus did not hesitate to suffer as we do, even to suffer at the hands of sin, disgrace and death, he became a light to all nations. Not a light instead of other lights, not the light that puts out all others, but the most rare and poignant beam of all. His glow gives fiber and strength and depth to each and every other light that shines.
So which religion is first? Catholic Christians would do well to seek last place and try to be servant of all. Especially if we would like to know why, on this Epiphany, Christ is the light to all nations.
Fr. John Foley, S. J. of the Center for Liturgy
|
A dream changed Joseph's life and ours. A mere dream, like what you and I have every night. How trustworthy could this be? And yet the safety of Mary and the child Jesus depended on it.
In his dream (Gospel), an angel told him that Mary's pregnancy was from the Holy Spirit of God and that Mary had accepted readily but without really understanding. Joseph should not be afraid of the pregnancy, even though he had not yet even married this woman.
Not be afraid? Already everyone could see that Joseph's fiance was "in a family way." USA culture might applaud this fact, as it does when movie stars have children with whomever they please as often as they please. In Biblical culture marriage was a sacred act, a participation in God's own fidelity. Mary had broken with that fidelity, at least as far as the townspeople could see. The Blessed Mother actually was thought of as a public sinner! No wonder Joseph was making arrangements for a "quiet divorce."
So why in the world would he reverse himself and trust a dream? A friend of mine dreamed one night about a kangaroo sitting on the roof in a rocking chair smoking a pipe! Should my friend check for rocking chairs on the roof, just in case? No of course not. We take a dream for what it is, a mechanism of our psyche that somehow processes our experience but does not give us literal truth. We do not look to them for life-changing messages. Why did Joseph?
I think the answer has to do with something St. Ignatius of Loyola calls "discernment."
In general, discernment is an examination of one's internal reactions ("movements of spirit") to God in prayer. There are many different kinds of these to discern, but Ignatius notes the most rare one first. There can be a time when grace is so gently strong that the person praying has an inner assurance that the experience did not come from imagination but from God. Somehow it is impossible to doubt it.
Now, you and I have to be careful not to get carried away by this notion. Probably many of us could convince ourselves that God or an Angel spoke to us this morning. We need to "discern" which experiences are from God and which are not. Are they quiet? Do they lead toward God or away? What is the long-term result? A spiritual director could help us sort through such questions.
That said, I think Joseph's dream was a movement of this kind. It contained, not a kangaroo, but a quiet certainty of the presence of God. No doubts followed it, though they would surely seem warrented. This dream was like the face of mother to a child. It was like the voice of a close friend.
Another way to put it is that Joseph already had a storehouse of trust in God's love. He did not experience this storehouse as broken into, shattered or pulled to pieces by the dream. Instead the message fit right into the design of Joseph's life with God. And so he followed.
What is your internal sense of the Christmas story? Is the birth of God an impossible tale reserved for children? Or do you find the roots of trust within yourself as Joseph did?
Fr. John Foley, S. J. of the Center for Liturgy
|
"By Your Perseverance You Will Secure Your Lives"
(By Regina Siegfried, ASC)
For those given to a literal interpretation of Scripture, the Gospel reading for today can send them scurrying for safety. Perhaps they need to halt their rush for the exits to consider the present world situation instead of being consumed with fear about the end of the world. The wars, natural disasters, persecution of the innocent, and other dire scenarios in the Gospel account are happening right now. Consider Iraq, Israel, Palestine, forgotten African countries like Liberia and Darfur in Sudan. Contemplate the domestic calamities in our own city, walking past our doors, and perhaps even living within our homes. The world doesn't end; life works its way through what looks like the end as we know it. How does the gritty human spirit soar through and above the hard times when the literal end of the world might seem a relief?
The short passage from the first reading, a section from the prophet Malachi, paints an image of fire racing through the hollow stumps of stubble, consuming all in its path. Malachi, like Jesus, holds hope in the midst of suffering: "But for you who fear my name there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays." Jesus promises safety in the midst of danger: "But not a hair of your head will be destroyed. By your perseverance you will secure your lives." We need to learn to look in unexpected places for these assurances of better days to come. Jesus typically sets up a scene and turns it upside down for its message of hope and new life. Strong faith in his message about the household of God and perseverance despite of and even because of life's hardships are some of the