Our readings today speak about the requirements placed upon those of us who are given the gift of faith – we who are disciples of Jesus, attempting to do His work in the world.
I think there are three main lessons to be taken from today’s readings, each teaching us something different about how we, as people of faith, are meant to treat one another – perhaps especially how we are to treat those people who haven’t been given the same gift of faith.
Acceptance
In our first reading from the Book of Numbers, Eldad and Medad, who had been chosen to be elders of the Israelites, weren’t present when Moses calls down the Spirit of the Lord. And yet, they receive the Spirit of the Lord anyway and begin prophesying.
Hearing about this, Joshua is upset. He seems to think that only those who are a part of his team, who share his privileges, who are loyal to him and to Moses, can receive the Lord’s Spirit, speak His word, and do His work.
Similarly, in today’s Gospel, someone who is not a member of Jesus’ disciples uses the Lord’s name to cast out demons. John the Apostle, like Joshua, reacts negatively. “How can he be doing this without permission,” he seems to be asking?
But like Moses, Jesus makes clear that God can and does use a variety of people to accomplish His work in the world. Jesus says: “whoever is not against us is for us.” Jesus teaches us to accept the good whenever and wherever it comes, whoever does it.
As people of faith, we need to accept and indeed be grateful for the good that others do – whether they share our faith or not; whether they think exactly as we do or not; whether they are on our team or not. When evil is really being conquered, and good is truly being done, we can accept and support that work, no matter who is doing it.
Charity
In the Gospel, Jesus goes on to say that, “anyone who gives you a cup of water to drink because you belong to Christ, will surely not lose their reward.” Jesus is teaching us that that acts of hospitality and works of mercy done in the Lord’s name, however small, will indeed be rewarded.
As people of faith, we need to perform similar works of mercy in order to show the world, especially those who don’t have faith, that our faith, and the God in whom we believe, is real. Our actions need to show the world that God is active in and through us as a God of love and mercy.
That’s why St. James, in today’s second reading, warns the rich that their amassing of earthly wealth and pleasure, their taking care of only themselves, has robbed others of even their right to basic sustenance. But the cries of the poor reach God’s ears, and the greedy and selfish ones will be punished.
Friends, if our faith in God who “hears the cry of the poor” is to be credible, especially to those who struggle to believe, than we must train ourselves to be constantly solicitous of others’ needs – placing the service of others, and the defense of the poorest and most defenseless, ahead of our own ego, self-interest, power or prestige.
Scandal
Finally, Jesus goes on to say that “whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were put around his neck and he were thrown into the sea.”
Jesus is teaching us that it is a grave sin for a person of faith to cause others scandal – for a person of faith to confuse others about what is right and what is wrong, thereby leading them into sin.
Therefore, Jesus says if your hand, or your foot, or your eye cause you to sin, cut them off. It is better to enter into life maimed, or crippled, or blinded, than to have two hands, and two feet, and two eyes, but to be thrown into the unquenchable fires of Hell.
This seems to be a harsh statement – indeed it is. But that’s because there is no room for compromise with sin. To comprise with sin is to destroy the very distinction between good and evil, thereby confusing ourselves and others about what is right and what is wrong.
Think of a surgeon who operates to remove a cancerous growth that threatens a patient’s life. Surgery may be a drastic measure. It may be difficult and painful. It may even require the removal of part of the body. But it is absolutely necessary because there can be no compromise with the cancer that seeks to destroy, seeks to kill the patient.
Just the same, sin is a cancer that seeks to destroy us – and through scandal, to destroy the faith of others when they witness our compromise with sin. Whatever measures need to be taken to keep from falling into sin, or causing another to sin, must be taken. Whatever the costs to our egos, or to our pleasure, or to our prestige, it is worth it to have the fullness of life God desires to give us!
Friends, today’s readings challenge us, as men and women of faith, to appreciate and accept the good that others do whether they are like us or not; they challenge us to care more for the defenseless and the powerless than for our own comfort or prestige; they challenge us to make no compromise with sin, lest we allow it to fester and lead others to sin.
May the Eucharist we now celebrate renew in all of us, and in our community, the humility, the generosity and the courage that is required to live as faithful disciples.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
U2 360 in NYC
U2 360 has rolled into NYC and the local fishwrapper has the scoop. Can't help but agree with the assessment.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Homily for the Twenty Fifth Sunday in OT (B)
Today’s readings seem especially directed at you and me, because today’s readings center around the nature of ambition, success, and true wisdom. And here we are, students at one of the nation’s most prestigious universities. Not only are we here in the pursuit of Wisdom, we have already achieved a not insignificant amount of success – and we are rightly ambitious for the future. We have plans for further studies, for successful careers in business, medicine or law. Our families and friends back home have every reason to expect great things from us.
But what, precisely, is the mark of having achieved success? Is it being admitted to the best graduate school; getting hired by the biggest law firm; being offered the six-figure salary; living in the nicest house and driving the fanciest car?
In today’s Gospel Jesus’ Apostles are having a bit of a problem defining what true success is. Jesus has just finished explaining that the Son of Man will be handed over and killed, and they are arguing about their status in the group – about who is the greatest among them; who’s closest to Jesus; who’s going to be His right-hand man when He reestablishes the kingdom to Israel.
And so Jesus has to clarify His point and turn their expectations upside down. The one who is first among them, He says, must be last, and must be the servant of all. And to drive His point home, He takes a child into His arms and says, “Whoever receives once child such as this in my name receives me, and the One who sent me.”
Now we have to think of children as something other than cute, cuddly, loveable and innocent. To understand the real power of what Jesus is saying we have to remember that in Jesus’ time children were essentially ‘non-persons.’ They were often unprotected and ignored – and as such they serve here as a symbol of all those who are powerless and vulnerable.
Jesus is insisting that while the disciples desire positions of power in God’s kingdom, they should really be more concerned with welcoming and serving the lowest and the least. Jesus is trying to teach them that true success, true wisdom, is found in receiving the most vulnerable of society – because it is in receiving them that we receive Jesus, and His heavenly Father who sent Him.
When I was an undergraduate here at Notre Dame, I lived in Siegfried Hall, and whenever I felt like the pressures of the semester were weighing me down, and I was finding it hard to remember what the point of all this hard work really was, I’d sit in the dark of Siegfried Hall Chapel, and pray before the statue of Mary.
Many of you know that Siegfried’s Chapel is dedicated to Our Lady, Seat of Wisdom – and the statue there is a beautiful piece from 13th century Spain: Mary, seated on a throne – the young Christ sitting in her lap, and Mary holding him out towards the world.
I always found that praying before that image of Our Lady helped put the search for Wisdom and my definitions of success back into perspective.
Mary never went to school – more than likely she never learned to read or write. And yet we honor her as Seat of Wisdom, because true Wisdom, true success is so much more than obtaining book knowledge or securing the trappings of worldly power.
In our second reading, the Letter of St. James says that true Wisdom, Wisdom from above is “first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits.” Sown like a seed, Wisdom is known by the fruit it bears, by the rich harvest of peace and righteousness it yields.
This is why Mary is the Seat of Wisdom. From the moment Gabriel’s message sounded in her ear, and she gave her “yes,” to God, Mary protected and nourished that seed in the pure and fertile soil of her very flesh, and that seed bore fruit, even before Christ is born.
It bore fruit when Mary sang her Magnificat – her prayer of praise for all the wonders that God has done, in which she says: “God has cast the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly.”
And it bore fruit when she went, in haste, toward the hill country, to be of service to her cousin Elizabeth who was also pregnant. As Mary journeyed, she bore Christ wherever she went, and to whomever she met.
Friends, this is the very height of Wisdom and the mark of true success for the Christian disciple: to praise all God’s wonders, and the inseparable instinct to bear Christ to others in humble service.
While Mary bears this Wisdom by virtue of the Incarnation – the Christ-seed literally growing in the flesh within her, we too bear the Christ-seed – spiritually speaking, by virtue of the grace planted within us at Baptism.
Our mission, like Mary’s, is to bear Christ to the world. And we do so in words and deeds that convince others of the Christ-seed that is within them – and we help each other nourish that seed of Wisdom for an even more abundant harvest.
This is the true Wisdom that we are supposed to gain here at Our Lady’s University – and all the other education and training we receive are meant to give us the varied tools we need to bear Christ to the world, and to receive Him into our lives by serving the most vulnerable and powerless: the defenseless child, the despairing poor, the forgotten elderly, the refugees of war.
The world around us often seems to say that it’s smarter to take care of yourself. Success, we are told, is to make sure that you’re taken care of, and let everyone else fend for themselves.
It’s not easy for us to avoid this worldly way of thinking, just as it was not easy for the Apostles, just as it was not easy for Mary to endure the hardships and suffering she faced in her faithfulness.
That’s why we gather so often around the Eucharistic table, to feast on Wisdom for nourishment and strength.
May all of our efforts here at Notre Dame, all of our labors in the classroom, in the library, in the laboratories, and in the dorms – all of our efforts be aimed at one true purpose: the pursuit and proclamation of the true Wisdom that is Christ Himself.
But what, precisely, is the mark of having achieved success? Is it being admitted to the best graduate school; getting hired by the biggest law firm; being offered the six-figure salary; living in the nicest house and driving the fanciest car?
In today’s Gospel Jesus’ Apostles are having a bit of a problem defining what true success is. Jesus has just finished explaining that the Son of Man will be handed over and killed, and they are arguing about their status in the group – about who is the greatest among them; who’s closest to Jesus; who’s going to be His right-hand man when He reestablishes the kingdom to Israel.
And so Jesus has to clarify His point and turn their expectations upside down. The one who is first among them, He says, must be last, and must be the servant of all. And to drive His point home, He takes a child into His arms and says, “Whoever receives once child such as this in my name receives me, and the One who sent me.”
Now we have to think of children as something other than cute, cuddly, loveable and innocent. To understand the real power of what Jesus is saying we have to remember that in Jesus’ time children were essentially ‘non-persons.’ They were often unprotected and ignored – and as such they serve here as a symbol of all those who are powerless and vulnerable.
Jesus is insisting that while the disciples desire positions of power in God’s kingdom, they should really be more concerned with welcoming and serving the lowest and the least. Jesus is trying to teach them that true success, true wisdom, is found in receiving the most vulnerable of society – because it is in receiving them that we receive Jesus, and His heavenly Father who sent Him.
When I was an undergraduate here at Notre Dame, I lived in Siegfried Hall, and whenever I felt like the pressures of the semester were weighing me down, and I was finding it hard to remember what the point of all this hard work really was, I’d sit in the dark of Siegfried Hall Chapel, and pray before the statue of Mary.
Many of you know that Siegfried’s Chapel is dedicated to Our Lady, Seat of Wisdom – and the statue there is a beautiful piece from 13th century Spain: Mary, seated on a throne – the young Christ sitting in her lap, and Mary holding him out towards the world.
I always found that praying before that image of Our Lady helped put the search for Wisdom and my definitions of success back into perspective.
Mary never went to school – more than likely she never learned to read or write. And yet we honor her as Seat of Wisdom, because true Wisdom, true success is so much more than obtaining book knowledge or securing the trappings of worldly power.
In our second reading, the Letter of St. James says that true Wisdom, Wisdom from above is “first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits.” Sown like a seed, Wisdom is known by the fruit it bears, by the rich harvest of peace and righteousness it yields.
This is why Mary is the Seat of Wisdom. From the moment Gabriel’s message sounded in her ear, and she gave her “yes,” to God, Mary protected and nourished that seed in the pure and fertile soil of her very flesh, and that seed bore fruit, even before Christ is born.
It bore fruit when Mary sang her Magnificat – her prayer of praise for all the wonders that God has done, in which she says: “God has cast the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly.”
And it bore fruit when she went, in haste, toward the hill country, to be of service to her cousin Elizabeth who was also pregnant. As Mary journeyed, she bore Christ wherever she went, and to whomever she met.
Friends, this is the very height of Wisdom and the mark of true success for the Christian disciple: to praise all God’s wonders, and the inseparable instinct to bear Christ to others in humble service.
While Mary bears this Wisdom by virtue of the Incarnation – the Christ-seed literally growing in the flesh within her, we too bear the Christ-seed – spiritually speaking, by virtue of the grace planted within us at Baptism.
Our mission, like Mary’s, is to bear Christ to the world. And we do so in words and deeds that convince others of the Christ-seed that is within them – and we help each other nourish that seed of Wisdom for an even more abundant harvest.
This is the true Wisdom that we are supposed to gain here at Our Lady’s University – and all the other education and training we receive are meant to give us the varied tools we need to bear Christ to the world, and to receive Him into our lives by serving the most vulnerable and powerless: the defenseless child, the despairing poor, the forgotten elderly, the refugees of war.
The world around us often seems to say that it’s smarter to take care of yourself. Success, we are told, is to make sure that you’re taken care of, and let everyone else fend for themselves.
It’s not easy for us to avoid this worldly way of thinking, just as it was not easy for the Apostles, just as it was not easy for Mary to endure the hardships and suffering she faced in her faithfulness.
That’s why we gather so often around the Eucharistic table, to feast on Wisdom for nourishment and strength.
May all of our efforts here at Notre Dame, all of our labors in the classroom, in the library, in the laboratories, and in the dorms – all of our efforts be aimed at one true purpose: the pursuit and proclamation of the true Wisdom that is Christ Himself.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
We'll Take the Win, But . . .
This weekend was another home game, and for the second time this year we had absolutely stellar weather. My favorite part of game-day is always the Moreau Seminary tailgate party. In part that's because Fr. Jim Gallagher, CSC and I started the tradition lo these many years ago.
Here Jim and I are joined by Candidate seminarian Kevin Wack . . .
. . . and Fr. Greg Haake, CSC is joined by temporarily professed seminarian Brian Ching, CSC.
Inside the stadium I have the pleasure of sitting with my classmates and other Holy Cross confreres from Corby Hall:
And no matter how the game goes, we can at least enjoy the marching band:
I actually left today's game early so that I wouldn't have to see Michigan State beat us yet again at home. By some miracle, ND came up with an interception that saved the game. Let's just hope it didn't save Charlie Weis' job. It's just become perfectly clear that despite the talent he recruits, he is simply incapable of coaching a team to excellence . . . which is what we claimed we were aiming for when we hired him in the first place.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Homily for Wednesday of the 24th Week in OT and Corby Hall Community Night
We know well that elsewhere in the Scriptures Jesus says that those who wish to enter the kingdom must be childlike. But in today’s Gospel, Jesus critiques “this generation” – we can understand Him to be speaking about us as well – for being childish. So there is a distinction to be made between being childlike – which is to say trustingly dependant on a loving parent – and childish.
Jesus calls this generation childish because they make childish demands:
“We played the flute for you but you did not dance; we sang a dirge for you but you did not weep.”
The children in the marketplace want others to, literally, dance to their tune. Childishness insists on getting one’s own way, without regard for what is right or wrong, and without regard for the needs of others. And we say as much when a teenager whines and complains when things don’t go their way.
In turn, Jesus critiques this generation for childishness because they make childish criticisms:
“John the Baptist came neither eating food nor drinking wine and you said he is possessed by a demon. The Son of Man came eating and drinking and you called Him a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.”
The criticisms of the Pharisees for John and for Jesus were childish because they were rooted not in an accurate appraisal of God’s Law, but rather on their own self-righteousness. Again, a concern not really with right and wrong, with the good of the other, but with having others dance to their own tunes.
“But wisdom is vindicated by all her children.”
Brothers, we will prove the maturity of our faith, and avoid childishness, and show ourselves to be the children of Wisdom, when what was said of Jesus in today’s Gospel can be said of us:
“He is a friend of tax collectors and sinners.”
When we have a higher concern for what is truly right than for our own prerogatives – when we can admit our own sinfulness, and forgive the sinfulness of others – when like Jesus, it is not our guilt, but the holiness of our lives, and our compassion and love, that draws sinners to us – then we will truly be childlike, not childish.
In this regard we have wonderful models in Sts. Cornelius and Cyprian whom we celebrate today. They each gave up their lives rather than betray the true faith – but before that, in their life of ministry, they worked together to reconcile apostates with the Church not through harsh measures or amnesty, but through the usual "medicine of repentance.”
May this Eucharist give us the courage and strength we each need to be that steadfast in faith and that generous in forgiveness.
Jesus calls this generation childish because they make childish demands:
“We played the flute for you but you did not dance; we sang a dirge for you but you did not weep.”
The children in the marketplace want others to, literally, dance to their tune. Childishness insists on getting one’s own way, without regard for what is right or wrong, and without regard for the needs of others. And we say as much when a teenager whines and complains when things don’t go their way.
In turn, Jesus critiques this generation for childishness because they make childish criticisms:
“John the Baptist came neither eating food nor drinking wine and you said he is possessed by a demon. The Son of Man came eating and drinking and you called Him a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.”
The criticisms of the Pharisees for John and for Jesus were childish because they were rooted not in an accurate appraisal of God’s Law, but rather on their own self-righteousness. Again, a concern not really with right and wrong, with the good of the other, but with having others dance to their own tunes.
“But wisdom is vindicated by all her children.”
Brothers, we will prove the maturity of our faith, and avoid childishness, and show ourselves to be the children of Wisdom, when what was said of Jesus in today’s Gospel can be said of us:
“He is a friend of tax collectors and sinners.”
When we have a higher concern for what is truly right than for our own prerogatives – when we can admit our own sinfulness, and forgive the sinfulness of others – when like Jesus, it is not our guilt, but the holiness of our lives, and our compassion and love, that draws sinners to us – then we will truly be childlike, not childish.
In this regard we have wonderful models in Sts. Cornelius and Cyprian whom we celebrate today. They each gave up their lives rather than betray the true faith – but before that, in their life of ministry, they worked together to reconcile apostates with the Church not through harsh measures or amnesty, but through the usual "medicine of repentance.”
May this Eucharist give us the courage and strength we each need to be that steadfast in faith and that generous in forgiveness.
Homily Video
As I mentioned in my last post, this weekend I presided and preached at all of the Basilica Masses. The 10 am Liturgy is broadcast live on the Catholic Channel and taped for the internet. Here's a look:
Monday, September 14, 2009
"Let Me In The Sound!" - UPDATED
The past several weeks have really been quite good, but they've also been unbelievably busy. None more so than this past week. On top of my usual responsibilities with classes and Old College, I also took a practice GRE and presided and preached at all three of the Sunday Masses at the Basilica.
So Sunday afternoon and evening was high-time for relaxation and fun - and it couldn't have come in a better way. Jim Gallagher, Greg Haake and I drove up to Chicago and enjoyed the beautiful late summer weather . . .
We walked along the lake shore and then into Millennium Park.
We stopped for a bite to eat and a few beers, while we counted down the hours until the real aim of our Chicago sojourn . . . .
The U2 360 show at Soldier Field!!
I have been anxiously anticipating this concert since Easter. I was en route to Alaska for Holy Week when the tickets for the opening concert of the American leg of the tour went on sale. The show for Soldier Field on Saturday September 12th sold out in minutes, and I didn't get tickets.
But after I lamented this fact in a Facebook post, dear Amanda Lazinski came through with a tip about tickets for a quickly announced second Chicago show on Sunday the 13th. Just like that I had tickets reserved just before I departed for my great northern adventure.
This is the fourth U2 show I've had the pleasure of seeing, and the second time I have seen them in Soldier Field. My first U2 concert was the Popmart tour of 1997 at Soldier Field. Since then I've seen the boys on the 2001 Elevation tour (at the United Center with Pat McDonald) and on the Vertigo tour in 2005 (with Jim Gallagher in Seattle's Key Arena).
This time Jim and I were joined by Greg Haake, as I already mentioned, and Nate Wills, who has just completed his move to Madison, Wisconsin to begin doctoral studies. Amazingly, this was Greg's first ever rock concert, and boy did he pick a good one to start on.
I think it's fair to say there is no greater spectacle in rock and roll than a U2 concert . . . and the 360 tour has taken that to a whole new level. The name of the tour comes from the elaborate stage design which allows 360 degree views of the stage - the video screens, lights and speakers being suspended above the stage from a giant crab-like structure. The idea is to get the crowd as close to the band as possible, and to make even a huge stadium like Soldier Field feel like a more intimate setting.
The Chicago Tribune had a great post about the unique stage design.
All I can say is that it worked beyond anything I could have imagined. Because the stage was so large, and the lighting so spectacular, you really did feel very close to the action on the stage.
We didn't get into the stadium in time to hear much of the opening act, Snow Patrol, but what we heard was impressive. They seemed to handle the magnitude of the event pretty well for such a new group.
Before long, U2 emerged and kicked things off with "Breathe," which was the perfect first song - with a building drum solo. They continued with a run of songs from their newest album: "No Line On The Horizon," "Get On Your Boots," and one of my new favorites, "Magnificent."
Reaching back to some of their older albums, they then played "Beautiful Day," "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," a spectacular "Elevation," and for the first time ever "Your Blue Room," from the 1995 Passengers album. The final words of the song were spoken by astronauts from the Space Station, in a pre-recorded video projected on the screens above the stage.
Getting back into full throttle, they led the crowd in a fabulous sing along version of "Unknown Caller," and then played "Until the End of the World," "Stay (Faraway, So Close)," which is one of my all-time favorite U2 songs, and "The Unforgettable Fire."
While we were in Chicago, and there were plenty of references to the windy city in Bono's lyrical ad-libs, they also played a song I consider a NY anthem: "City of Blinding Lights." That was followed by "Vertigo." The lone disappointment of the evening was a remixed version of "I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight." It's one of my favorite songs off the new album, but this version was way too clubby for my liking - it was hardly recognizable.
The main set concluded with a great run of songs, including :"Sunday Bloody Sunday," "MLK," and "Walk On," and then a medley of "One," "Amazing Grace," and "Where the Streets Have No Name."
The three song encore included "Ultraviolet," "With or Without You," and a fabulous version of "Moment of Surrender."
For the second time, Fr. Tim Scully, CSC got a shout-out during one of the songs. (This You Tube video gives you the reference at about the 53 second mark) Fr. Tim founded the ACE program and helped host U2 when they played at ND in 2001. Bono was pretty impressed with the work of ACE and has referred to Fr. Tim by name during each Chicago show since then.
The crowd, while not amazing, was good enough, especially on the sing along songs. In that respect, it was the typical U2 concert experience - akin to a tent revival more than a rock concert. Indeed, in his opening remarks Bono said, "bring up the lights . . . let's go to church."
Altogether it was a wonderful evening that made me all the more desperate to see another show later in this tour!
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Homily for the Twenty Fourth Sunday in OT (B)
In today’s Gospel, when Jesus asks His Apostles “who do people say that I am,” they answer by identifying Jesus with the great men of their time. They tell Him that some think He is “John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”
Indeed, throughout the past two thousand years, and up to the current day, there have been plenty of people who admire Jesus and think of Him as a great man – an important historical figure, even a great religious leader. They appreciate His message of peace, they respect Him as an ethical teacher, perhaps they even follow Him as a moral exemplar.
But while all of this is true and significant it is simply insufficient for true discipleship. If this were a sufficient answer to the question, it would make Jesus just another spiritual guru, a wisdom figure, or the founder of a movement. But for the true disciple, Jesus is always much, much more than that.
And so Jesus turns once more to the Apostles and asks the question He is really and truly interested in: “Who do you say that I am?” It is Peter who provides the truest and best answer to this all-important question: “You are the Christ.”
Friends, in the course of our lives, Jesus asks each and every one of us this very same question. “Who do you say that I am?” It is, for us believers, the single most important question in all of human history, and the quality of our discipleship depends on the answer we give.
Peter’s confession, his declaration of belief, is the essence of the faith which the entire Church never tires of confessing throughout all of history. We proclaim our belief that Jesus is nothing less than “the Christ, the Son of the living God.” He is more than an ethical teacher, more than a moral exemplar: Jesus is God Incarnate!
Immediately after Peter correctly names Jesus as the Christ, God’s Messiah sent to save the world, Jesus explains to the Apostles that: “the Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and rise after three days.”
Without saying as much, Jesus validates Peter’s answer, and moves on to explain the type of Messiah He will be – and the means by which He will accomplish the Father’s will to reconcile all creation to Himself.
Jesus will be a suffering, servant Messiah, the one foretold in the prophecy of Isaiah we heard read in our first reading today: “I gave my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who plucked my beard; my face I did not shield from buffets and spitting.”
And it is precisely in this suffering, precisely in the blood of the cross, that Jesus will reconcile all creation to His heavenly Father.
But this is a terribly difficult thing for the disciples to accept. Their expectation was that the Messiah would be a powerful warrior-king; one who could overthrow the Roman occupiers and re-establish the Davidic kingdom of Israel. Even today people find it hard to believe in a God who gives Himself up and suffers unto death.
So, when St. Mark recounts that Peter speaks again, his words this time come not from faith, not from what the Father has revealed to him, but from his own ego, from his own sense of how God should and should not act in the world, from his own expectations of who the Messiah should be.
Peter rebukes Jesus, undoubtedly saying what the other Evangelists record: “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”
But in attempting to deny Jesus His cross, Peter is denying the very profession of faith he has just finished making. In denying Jesus His cross, Peter is denying Christ the means by which He will accomplish the mission of, and receive the glory due, the Anointed One of God.
And so Jesus responds forcefully, with one of the strongest condemnations we hear in the entirety of the Gospels: “Get behind me Satan! You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”
Jesus makes clear, in no uncertain terms, that to follow Him is to “deny oneself, and take up the cross.” Conversely, to deny the cross, to choose one’s own ego and self-interest, is to side not with Christ, but with Satan, the Father of Lies, and the Prince of Darkness.
If we are honest, brothers and sisters, we must accuse ourselves of often thinking, not as God does, but as human beings do. We may profess our faith, with Peter, that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God . . . and yet, like Peter, we often fail to live out that faith, and we deny His cross.
We deny Jesus’ cross when we refuse to accept a share of His cross in our own lives – when we imagine that the suffering we experience is a sign of God’s displeasure with us, or His abandoning of us, or His failing to answer our prayers.
We deny His cross when we think of and care for only ourselves and fail to lay down our lives in service of our brothers and sisters. As St. James admonishes us in our second reading, “What good is it if someone says they have faith but does not have the works” that prove their faith?
Finally, we deny Jesus’ cross when we look for a savior other than Jesus – a savior more to our own liking. We deny the cross when we imagine that the world will be saved through our own efforts, or through science, or technology, or through political parties and social reforms. We make ourselves, and these other human endeavors our Messiah instead of Christ the Lord.
Friends, this coming week the Church will celebrate the Feast of the Triumph of the Holy Cross, and the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, the titular and the patronal feasts of the Congregation of Holy Cross.
We will celebrate the astounding and mysterious reality that the cross of Christ was not a mere instrument of torture, but the throne of glory that Jesus mounted triumphantly. And we will honor our Blessed Mother, Mary, who knew grief and was a Lady of Sorrows – a woman who bore much suffering she could not understand and yet stood fast in faith.
If our profession of faith in Jesus Christ is to be authentic and effective in our lives, and in the life of the world, we need to take the opportunity these great feasts give us to examine whether we have embraced or denied the Lord’s cross.
These feasts remind us that as paradoxical as it seems, it is only in and through the cross that Jesus is Christ, and the world is saved – it is only in giving up our lives, that we find the fullness of the life that comes only through the cross.
May this Eucharist we now celebrate strengthen us to answer the Lord’s question, “Who do you say that I am?” by picking up our cross and following Him.
Indeed, throughout the past two thousand years, and up to the current day, there have been plenty of people who admire Jesus and think of Him as a great man – an important historical figure, even a great religious leader. They appreciate His message of peace, they respect Him as an ethical teacher, perhaps they even follow Him as a moral exemplar.
But while all of this is true and significant it is simply insufficient for true discipleship. If this were a sufficient answer to the question, it would make Jesus just another spiritual guru, a wisdom figure, or the founder of a movement. But for the true disciple, Jesus is always much, much more than that.
And so Jesus turns once more to the Apostles and asks the question He is really and truly interested in: “Who do you say that I am?” It is Peter who provides the truest and best answer to this all-important question: “You are the Christ.”
Friends, in the course of our lives, Jesus asks each and every one of us this very same question. “Who do you say that I am?” It is, for us believers, the single most important question in all of human history, and the quality of our discipleship depends on the answer we give.
Peter’s confession, his declaration of belief, is the essence of the faith which the entire Church never tires of confessing throughout all of history. We proclaim our belief that Jesus is nothing less than “the Christ, the Son of the living God.” He is more than an ethical teacher, more than a moral exemplar: Jesus is God Incarnate!
Immediately after Peter correctly names Jesus as the Christ, God’s Messiah sent to save the world, Jesus explains to the Apostles that: “the Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and rise after three days.”
Without saying as much, Jesus validates Peter’s answer, and moves on to explain the type of Messiah He will be – and the means by which He will accomplish the Father’s will to reconcile all creation to Himself.
Jesus will be a suffering, servant Messiah, the one foretold in the prophecy of Isaiah we heard read in our first reading today: “I gave my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who plucked my beard; my face I did not shield from buffets and spitting.”
And it is precisely in this suffering, precisely in the blood of the cross, that Jesus will reconcile all creation to His heavenly Father.
But this is a terribly difficult thing for the disciples to accept. Their expectation was that the Messiah would be a powerful warrior-king; one who could overthrow the Roman occupiers and re-establish the Davidic kingdom of Israel. Even today people find it hard to believe in a God who gives Himself up and suffers unto death.
So, when St. Mark recounts that Peter speaks again, his words this time come not from faith, not from what the Father has revealed to him, but from his own ego, from his own sense of how God should and should not act in the world, from his own expectations of who the Messiah should be.
Peter rebukes Jesus, undoubtedly saying what the other Evangelists record: “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”
But in attempting to deny Jesus His cross, Peter is denying the very profession of faith he has just finished making. In denying Jesus His cross, Peter is denying Christ the means by which He will accomplish the mission of, and receive the glory due, the Anointed One of God.
And so Jesus responds forcefully, with one of the strongest condemnations we hear in the entirety of the Gospels: “Get behind me Satan! You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”
Jesus makes clear, in no uncertain terms, that to follow Him is to “deny oneself, and take up the cross.” Conversely, to deny the cross, to choose one’s own ego and self-interest, is to side not with Christ, but with Satan, the Father of Lies, and the Prince of Darkness.
If we are honest, brothers and sisters, we must accuse ourselves of often thinking, not as God does, but as human beings do. We may profess our faith, with Peter, that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God . . . and yet, like Peter, we often fail to live out that faith, and we deny His cross.
We deny Jesus’ cross when we refuse to accept a share of His cross in our own lives – when we imagine that the suffering we experience is a sign of God’s displeasure with us, or His abandoning of us, or His failing to answer our prayers.
We deny His cross when we think of and care for only ourselves and fail to lay down our lives in service of our brothers and sisters. As St. James admonishes us in our second reading, “What good is it if someone says they have faith but does not have the works” that prove their faith?
Finally, we deny Jesus’ cross when we look for a savior other than Jesus – a savior more to our own liking. We deny the cross when we imagine that the world will be saved through our own efforts, or through science, or technology, or through political parties and social reforms. We make ourselves, and these other human endeavors our Messiah instead of Christ the Lord.
Friends, this coming week the Church will celebrate the Feast of the Triumph of the Holy Cross, and the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, the titular and the patronal feasts of the Congregation of Holy Cross.
We will celebrate the astounding and mysterious reality that the cross of Christ was not a mere instrument of torture, but the throne of glory that Jesus mounted triumphantly. And we will honor our Blessed Mother, Mary, who knew grief and was a Lady of Sorrows – a woman who bore much suffering she could not understand and yet stood fast in faith.
If our profession of faith in Jesus Christ is to be authentic and effective in our lives, and in the life of the world, we need to take the opportunity these great feasts give us to examine whether we have embraced or denied the Lord’s cross.
These feasts remind us that as paradoxical as it seems, it is only in and through the cross that Jesus is Christ, and the world is saved – it is only in giving up our lives, that we find the fullness of the life that comes only through the cross.
May this Eucharist we now celebrate strengthen us to answer the Lord’s question, “Who do you say that I am?” by picking up our cross and following Him.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Back to Flanner Hall
One of the more interesting parts of my transition these past few weeks, has been returning to the campus I spent four years on as an undergraduate (not to mention a year as an employee and another four as a seminarian).
It's been nearly four years since I lived at Notre Dame, and since my senior year in 1999 that I lived on campus. And now I am living here for the first time as a thirty-something year old, and as a priest to boot!
I've had a bit of nostalgia, a couple of flash-backs and plenty of moments of amazement - at things that have changed (or not changed) on campus and in me.
One of the threads linking my time as an undergraduate with my current incarnation as a priest-preparing-for-graduate-school is Flanner Hall. In 1995 I entered Flanner as a freshman, living on the fourth floor. My sophomore year was spent there as well, on the ninth floor.
After my sophomore year, Flanner was closed as a residence hall and converted into faculty offices. I moved to Siegfried Hall where I spent the next two years and served as an RA. (I still consider Siegfried a sort of home on campus and enjoy visiting Fr. John Conley there.)
But this year I have returned to Flanner Hall. The good people of the Cushwa Center for American Catholicism have allowed me to assist them this year with the conferences they host and the newsletter they publish. They've also been so generous as to give me an office to work in.
This has proven to be a great spot to 'get away' to during the day to study for the GRE, and in time, to write my grad school applications. It's sparse, but that has meant it's also distraction free - which is certainly not the case in Old College. At most, I'm tempted to enjoy the nice view I have of the Mod Quad dorms, the parking lots, and the athletic complex:
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)
Because Gospel passages like this one, in which Jesus performs some kind of miracle and heals some kind of ill, are so familiar to us there is a danger that we could gloss over it too easily. We might think: “Here is another healing story in which we see Jesus as a miracle worker.”
At best, linking today’s Gospel with Isaiah’s prophecy from the first reading, we might say, “Here is a proof that Jesus is a Divine person, the fulfillment of the promised Day of the Lord.”
The problem is, that as true as these reflections are – Jesus did indeed perform miracles, and He is in fact the long awaited Son of God – they still leave Jesus at a convenient distance from ourselves, from our own life and times.
The deepest truth, however, is that what Jesus does for the deaf and mute person in today’s Gospel, He does for all of us. Or said another way, Jesus heals us of the spiritual infirmities symbolized by the man’s deafness and muteness.
Just as Jesus opened the ears of the deaf man, that he might hear, Jesus opens our ears so that we might hear God’s voice.
Just as Jesus opened the mouth of the mute man, that he might speak, Jesus touches our tongues that we might proclaim God’s praise.
You see, until our lives were touched by Jesus Christ we were incapable of these things: we could not hear God’s voice; we could not proclaim God’s praise. We had fallen into sin and separation from God. But Jesus restores us – each and every one of us – to a relationship with the Father. And relationships require communication . . . hearing the other, and making oneself known to the other.
We should all ask ourselves, therefore, especially at the beginning of a new academic year, how much do we make use of these gifts Jesus has given to us: this ability to hear God’s voice and to proclaim God’s praise.
Do I regularly speak to and listen to God in prayer? Do I seek to know, and ask Him to show me, His will for my life? Do I proclaim God’s praise, especially by joining the Church in prayer each week? Do I speak of Him and His goodness to others, and help bring them into deeper relationship with Him?
And here we are brought to a second and complimentary fruit of Christ’s healing touch in our lives. In the Gospel, Jesus’ healing of the deaf and mute man gave him back himself, his identity and his dignity as a person. Jesus’ healing made him able to be in relationship, to know others and to be known by them. The man could finally be known as a person, not merely as an illness or as a poverty of natural ability.
So too, in restoring us to relationship with God, Jesus has also restored us to one another. In Jesus Christ we are given our true identity and dignity as human persons. In Him we are capable of knowing and loving not only ourselves, but others as ourselves.
This is the root of what some have called a Christian personalism – a philosophy we see developed in Pope John Paul II’s encyclicals and preaching, and upon which Dorothy Day and her fellow Catholic Workers based their movement.
What does this philosophy of Christian personalism hold? It reminds us that the absolute value and dignity of each and every human person transcends all of history and all its political, economic and social systems. Respect for the individual, and the transformation of the individual, rather than any material success, is the only acceptable means of evaluating the value of any human endeavor.
I got a taste of this philosophy in action when I was a novice in our Holy Cross community. I was assigned for a time to serve at Andre House in Phoenix, Arizona. This is our homeless shelter and soup kitchen, and it is organized on the principles of the Catholic Worker movement.
I learned there that the clothing and food and shelter that we provided for brothers and sisters in need were, in the end, only as important as the warm smile, attentive listening, kind conversation, and shared prayer that we also offered our guests.
Our guests could get a handout from lots of places. What they often wanted most, however, was for someone to recognize their dignity and worth – someone to treat them as a human person, and not merely as a social problem or a statistic. That’s what Christian personalism is all about – and it’s one of the implications of the Gospel we just heard, and it’s certainly what St. James means when he asks us to show no partiality between rich and poor.
Many of you will, during the course of this year, be involved in Christian service projects of various kinds. You will serve the homeless and the poor – you will advocate for the dignity of workers, and for the life of the unborn, the infirm and the imprisoned. And then, when you return from that good work, you will also do the hard work of building Christian community here on campus.
In all these things the dignity of the human person must be our constant guide and aim. In seeking a relationship with our Heavenly Father, in attempting to know Him and be known by Him, we must open ourselves to one another – we must listen to and speak to our brothers and sisters so as to know them and be known by them.
"We have all known the long loneliness” Dorothy Day wrote, “and we have learned that the answer is love, love in community."
By the strength of this Eucharist, and with ears, and mouths, and hearts, and minds open to one another, and to God who is Love – let us strive to build that kind of community here on this campus.
At best, linking today’s Gospel with Isaiah’s prophecy from the first reading, we might say, “Here is a proof that Jesus is a Divine person, the fulfillment of the promised Day of the Lord.”
The problem is, that as true as these reflections are – Jesus did indeed perform miracles, and He is in fact the long awaited Son of God – they still leave Jesus at a convenient distance from ourselves, from our own life and times.
The deepest truth, however, is that what Jesus does for the deaf and mute person in today’s Gospel, He does for all of us. Or said another way, Jesus heals us of the spiritual infirmities symbolized by the man’s deafness and muteness.
Just as Jesus opened the ears of the deaf man, that he might hear, Jesus opens our ears so that we might hear God’s voice.
Just as Jesus opened the mouth of the mute man, that he might speak, Jesus touches our tongues that we might proclaim God’s praise.
You see, until our lives were touched by Jesus Christ we were incapable of these things: we could not hear God’s voice; we could not proclaim God’s praise. We had fallen into sin and separation from God. But Jesus restores us – each and every one of us – to a relationship with the Father. And relationships require communication . . . hearing the other, and making oneself known to the other.
We should all ask ourselves, therefore, especially at the beginning of a new academic year, how much do we make use of these gifts Jesus has given to us: this ability to hear God’s voice and to proclaim God’s praise.
Do I regularly speak to and listen to God in prayer? Do I seek to know, and ask Him to show me, His will for my life? Do I proclaim God’s praise, especially by joining the Church in prayer each week? Do I speak of Him and His goodness to others, and help bring them into deeper relationship with Him?
And here we are brought to a second and complimentary fruit of Christ’s healing touch in our lives. In the Gospel, Jesus’ healing of the deaf and mute man gave him back himself, his identity and his dignity as a person. Jesus’ healing made him able to be in relationship, to know others and to be known by them. The man could finally be known as a person, not merely as an illness or as a poverty of natural ability.
So too, in restoring us to relationship with God, Jesus has also restored us to one another. In Jesus Christ we are given our true identity and dignity as human persons. In Him we are capable of knowing and loving not only ourselves, but others as ourselves.
This is the root of what some have called a Christian personalism – a philosophy we see developed in Pope John Paul II’s encyclicals and preaching, and upon which Dorothy Day and her fellow Catholic Workers based their movement.
What does this philosophy of Christian personalism hold? It reminds us that the absolute value and dignity of each and every human person transcends all of history and all its political, economic and social systems. Respect for the individual, and the transformation of the individual, rather than any material success, is the only acceptable means of evaluating the value of any human endeavor.
I got a taste of this philosophy in action when I was a novice in our Holy Cross community. I was assigned for a time to serve at Andre House in Phoenix, Arizona. This is our homeless shelter and soup kitchen, and it is organized on the principles of the Catholic Worker movement.
I learned there that the clothing and food and shelter that we provided for brothers and sisters in need were, in the end, only as important as the warm smile, attentive listening, kind conversation, and shared prayer that we also offered our guests.
Our guests could get a handout from lots of places. What they often wanted most, however, was for someone to recognize their dignity and worth – someone to treat them as a human person, and not merely as a social problem or a statistic. That’s what Christian personalism is all about – and it’s one of the implications of the Gospel we just heard, and it’s certainly what St. James means when he asks us to show no partiality between rich and poor.
Many of you will, during the course of this year, be involved in Christian service projects of various kinds. You will serve the homeless and the poor – you will advocate for the dignity of workers, and for the life of the unborn, the infirm and the imprisoned. And then, when you return from that good work, you will also do the hard work of building Christian community here on campus.
In all these things the dignity of the human person must be our constant guide and aim. In seeking a relationship with our Heavenly Father, in attempting to know Him and be known by Him, we must open ourselves to one another – we must listen to and speak to our brothers and sisters so as to know them and be known by them.
"We have all known the long loneliness” Dorothy Day wrote, “and we have learned that the answer is love, love in community."
By the strength of this Eucharist, and with ears, and mouths, and hearts, and minds open to one another, and to God who is Love – let us strive to build that kind of community here on this campus.
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