Calling All Questions (and Topics)

It's been a while since I've put out a call for questions -- whatever you have on your mind that you want to ask about when it comes to the Catholic Faith. So feel free to fire away and post them as a comment to this post.

Practice Resurrection

Today is Easter Monday, and we are living the resurrection.

In this Easter Season, let's do Easter. Let us make Easter in us, let us practice resurrection in our relationships. Wendell Berry writes about this, and I think it's worth copying his thoughts here:

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

by Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.

When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.

Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.

Listen to carrion -- put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.L
aughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.

As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go.

Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

For They Were Afraid

Today's Gospel (Mark 16:1-7) got cut short. And I'm not sure why. But verse 8 is not being read at Mass, and I think this is a big mistake. The line reads,

"Then they [the women] went out and fled from the tomb, seized with trembling and bewilderment. They said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid."

Okay, maybe not the most inspiring line in the gospels. Especially for Easter. But who are we to change the story just to make it more inspiring?

No kidding these women (note: these are WOMEN at the tomb on Easter; the MEN are all hiding and REALLY afraid) are scared out of their minds. Last week, Jesus was welcomed into Jerusalem as a hero. Four days later he was betrayed and arrested. The following day he was sentenced to crucifixion and endured the most painful, humiliating, and excruciating method of capitol punishment the world knew at the time. And they go to pay their respects to their Lord and this angel tells them that,

"He has been raised; he is not here." (v. 6)

What the heck does this even mean?

First of all, Jews of this time didn't really have an understanding of resurrection. And if they did, it was an apocalyptic vision of the end of the world. So on that point, this is pretty scary stuff these women are dealing with. Secondly, the angel just says Jesus is "not here." But he doesn't fill them in on where Jesus is. So what are they to think? Is he going to pop in when they least expect it? Is he coming back? Will they see him again?

I have two reasons why I think verse 8 should be included in our celebration of Easter today. First of all, it reminds us of the shock and awe the disciples felt on this day. Since most of us have been celebrating Easter since we can remember, the resurrection is old hat for us. We might have a cerebral reflex which just moves past the concept and doesn't allow us to really sit with what it means for Jesus to have been raised from the dead -- even with his wounds intact. Can you imagine what this must have been like for these women? No wonder they were afraid. We should be too -- even now.

And secondly, this story reassures those of us who feel ourselves overwhelmed, bewildered, or afraid. We don't all have to think (or pretend to think) that we have to be courageous, brave, and fearless when it comes to our faith. This passage allows us to sit with our anxiety and uncertainty and remember that faith isn't about having it all figured out; we call it faith rather than fact for a reason. There is mystery involved; there are just some aspects of our faith not to be fully understood. And understanding is certainly not the same as believing. All the Easter accounts talk about believing, but not necessarily understanding. So this Easter, let us keep in mind that the Resurrection isn't about having it all figured out, though it should fill us with the peace, love, and joy that not only helps us to believe, but transforms the way we live.

We live in the Resurrection, here and now! It is the source of our hope, the promise of the past and the presence of the future, who is God, invading the present.

Let us LIVE the Resurrection -- even in times of fear, doubt, and bewilderment!

No Greater Love

At the risk of sounding like an egotistical broken record, last year's post on Good Friday (March 21, 2008) is also pretty good. But this year, thinking about Christ on the cross, I find myself truly moved. This suffering, this sacrifice, this self-gift shows us not only what God is capable of, but what humans are capable of. Today we see the fullest dimension of love on the cross; indeed, there is no greater love than this (John 15:13).

So there are many things we can focus on today. We can think about Christ suffering for us, embracing the cross for us, enduring the humiliation and mockery for us. And we can also reflect on how we respond to Christ in each of these moments. Do we suffer for Christ? Do we embrace the cross given to us (Mark 8:34)? Do we risk persecution, prejudice, and even embarrassment for Him?

Or are we just content to know that we are saved, that Christ paid the price, and we don't have to worry any longer about sin and death? Do we trust in God's grace to love us, strengthen us, heal us, and forgive us -- without any real cost on our end?

Bonhoeffer talks about how obedience precedes faith. It would be easy for us to say that we don't have to follow Christ to the cross because we already believe. We have already been saved. We already "get" what Good Friday is about.

Bonhoeffer says that's taking God's grace and making it "cheap" -- easy, convenient, and banal. When we look at Christ on the cross today, we see his radical obedience to the Father. And this is where our faith begins. First we have to obey. Then faith folows. Bonhoeffer writes, "The disobedient cannot believe; only the obedient believe."

Today we see the cost of the greatest love the world will ever know. And surely we are the ones who benefit. But that doesn't mean avoiding the cost that comes with discipleship. We can't water down Good Friday into "cheap grace," the kind of grace which allows us to go through the motions or make today just another Friday. Instead, we have to embrace the "costly grace" which demands the same sacrificial, suffering, and self-giving love we see in the cross. This is because, like Jesus, we are called to obey the Father, who loves us beyond compare.

It won't be easy, or comfortable, or convenient. But when is love about any of those things, anyway?

Today we see what love is, stripped down, bare, real.

Does the way we love compare?

What does God's love demand of us?

What is the cost of real love?

Christ showed us obedience to the Father until the end.

Will you follow him?

All in One Night

In reflecting on what we celebrate this evening, I read the thoughts I posted last year on Holy Thursday (March 20, 2008). And if I say so myself, it's a pretty good post. In it, I repeated a question my spiritual director asked me: "Do you dare let Jesus wash your feet?"

Maybe a suitable question today would be to consider those people in our lives who regularly wash our feet. The people who are there for us -- no matter what -- doing the dirty work: listening to us, supporting us, renewing us, loving us.

And then, a second question: whose feet do we wash? Who are the people that you make yourself vulnerable to? How are you there for them in their time of need? Why are you willing to be on-call, inconvenienced, and uncomfortable? Is it because you love them? Why do you love them?

Of course these questions cannot lead us away from what really matters today: that Jesus offers himself to us. Humbly, generously, lovingly. We get what it means to be Christian all in one night. Discipleship means doing the dirty work with love. Discipleship means breaking bread together. Discipleship means communion around Christ. Discipleship is obedience to Christ -- letting Him wash our feet even if we, like Peter, are confused, doubtful, or embarrassed.

If you remember, the first call of Jesus was "Follow Me." Jesus didn't offer explanation and didn't require any, either. Jesus didn't demand faith in him, because faith follows from obedience.

As we enter into the holiest days of the year, into the "sacred mysteries" of our faith, our goal shouldn't be to "get it" all, to understand what Jesus is doing, and how and why he does what he does. Our goal should be to obey: to love one another as he loves us (John 15:12). We see that love tonight, we will certainly see it tomorrow, and if we look closely, we'll see that love each and every day. And that's what discipleship is about: discerning that love in our lives and sharing it as freely as we have received it.

I Meant What I Said

Palm Sunday. Lent ends, Holy Week begins, and time collapses.

Well, at least that's how I feel when we read today's Gospel (Mk 14:1-15:47). Palm Sunday is about Jesus' triumphant ride into Jerusalem but the focus is already on Holy Thursday and Good Friday. Why are we already talking about the cross when that's still five days away?

The passion and death of Christ on the cross is a sobering reminder of what lies ahead. Today, Jesus is heralded as a hero, welcomed as the Messiah, called the King. In just five days, we -- like those gathered in Jerusalem 2,000 years ago -- will turn on him, abandon him, mock him, and avoid persecution by being identified with him. Today's Gospel not only speaks volumes about Christ (as does the Second Reading, Philippians 2:6-11, on which I wrote about last Palm Sunday (03/16/08) -- so you can select the label to the right for why this earliest of all Christologies is so significant). It also speaks volumes about us. And what it has to say isn't exactly pretty.

Have you ever wondered why the cross is the central Christian symbol? Why -- and how -- did a form of the death penalty become the symbol by which we profess our faith? Isn't it wholly depressing to consider that we place this cross not only on churches and in classrooms, on t-shirts and cars, around our necks and in body art as something so "normal"? Do we really consider what it means to be saved by the cross? Do we think about the pain and torture that this symbol represents? Do we realize that this method of execution was reserved for only the worst criminals and the worthless social outcasts? Do we think of the thousands of people who died upon these wooden transepts? Or do we just think of the One? And why do we need the cross to remember the Christ?

A friend of mine responded to this question by saying, "The cross reminds me that Jesus not only loves us enough to die for us or to save me from sin and death. The cross reminds me that Jesus is telling me -- then and now -- that 'I meant what I said.'"

It would have been easy for Jesus to give in to Pontius Pilate, change his tune about the purpose of his ministry, or never head into Jerusalem in the first place. Jesus very well could have avoided the cross. But he didn't. Instead, he stood by his word of unequaled and unconditional love for us (for more about this, read John 15:11-17). He, as the Second Reading tells us, gave himself to us in self-gift, no matter the pain, torture, embarrassment, or misery he was in for. The cross tells us -- then and now -- that Jesus meant what he said. He followed through on his word to the very end.

Since we are at the end of Lent, it might be a good time for us to think about how we spent the past 40 days. Did we make more time for prayer? Did we fast in order to increase our hunger for God? Did we serve those in need or give alms to the poor? Whether we gave something up or took something on, have we grown closer to Christ over the past six weeks? Have we opened ourselves to God's grace to more fully rely on God's providence?

We talked about doing all these things just 40 days ago. How do we measure up today?
Did you mean what you said? How does God know?

Maybe that's why the cross is our central symbol? Because it reminds us that Christ meant what he said. He did what we simply cannot do, because of our finitude and sin. And of course, Christ knew that we certainly could not save ourselves; we cannot even follow through on our word. And Jesus loves us anyway. He loves us enough to die for us like a despised criminal. And that's just not something we can ever let become "normal" to us.

The next time you see a cross, think about what it means:
"I meant what I said."

Do you? How do we know?

The Contract

A priest friend of mine told me a story about a stained glass window in his church that needed repair. It was old, and with age, was beginning to bow, loosening from the metal frame. As you might imagine, stained glass repairmen are hard to come by.

So my friend called around to find the best person in the Archdiocese. And when Father found him, he had him come over and check out the window. After about 15 minutes, the man went out to his truck to draw up the contract. In the contract, the repairman made it explicitly clear what he wasn't going to do, what he was going to do, when he was going to do it, and when Father had to pay him. Father even had to put down a nonrefundable deposit -- before seeing his work.

In relating this story, Father made it clear that the contract was written to protect the repairman and wasn't making any special effort to help him out. But Father needed that stained glass window fixed and he knew this was the only guy in Boston who could fix it. So Father took one look at this contract and asked, "Where do I sign?"

The readings this Sunday (http://www.usccb.org/nab/readings/032909a.shtml) and last Sunday (http://www.usccb.org/nab/readings/032209a.shtml) revolve around this concept of covenant and contract. Last Sunday we read that famous passage from John 3: "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son." What's the point of these readings? To remind us that we don't write the contract. We don't determine the how, and what, and when of life. God writes the contract, and in so doing, offers us what we need: not to fix a broken window, but the offer of salvation and eternal life.

Not only is Jesus the one through whom the contract is offered, but Jesus is the example for us to follow, because Jesus' whole life (and death) was about one thing: perfect love and obedience to the Father. Jesus shows us how we fulfill the contract. And Easter Sunday shows us the reward. The Cross (and the cross we bear) is not the end of the story.

Moreover, Jesus' life shows us that the road ahead isn't easy. In fact, even for the Son of God, life was filled with constant surprises, challenges, disappointments, frustrations, and even occasional moments of doubt and despair. But Jesus remained faithful to God through it all, to the very end. Why? Because

God loves when we are always faithful to Him -- no matter what.

So as we continue through Lent, with just a few weeks left, let us not be distracted by temptation, let us not stray from our goal. Let us not worry about challenges or obstacles or difficulty. Let us remember the reward offered in this contract so that our only question is not why me? how come? what now? or is this worth it? but simply:

Where do I sign?

What makes your heart beat?

Wanted to share this enjoyable video with you ...

More Food for Thought

More Food for Thought while you Fast:

[These are provided courtesy of Joshua Casteel, in his book "The City of God: Reflections for Lent 2009" (https://paxchristiusa.3dcartstores.com/The-City-of-God-Reflections-for-Lent-2009_p_210.html)]

To what am I enslaved? How can I become free?
What is the most important story of my life?
What forms of usury do I need to reject in my personal and communal life?
This week, how can I truly love God and my neighbor with all that I am?
For what hubris and hypocrisy do I need to ask God's forgiveness?


In what ways am I tempted to replicate the ways of the world rather than God's ways?
In what specific ways has God called me to create a special work that will demonstrate the love of God to the world?
Who have I subtly or not so subtly considered outside of the City of God?
How can I change my stance?
What am I willing to risk to build the City of God? Is there anything I am not willing to risk?
Am I willing to hear truth wherever, and from whomever, it is spoken?
Am I prepared to encounter God in whatever form God manifests?


How do I fail to live up to Jesus' words and teachings? How can I work to change that this Lent and Easter season?
What does it mean to me that Jesus, the Savior and Child of God, wept?
In what ways do I reject or fail to nurture intimacy with God?
As a peacemaker, how do I speak the language and works of Love?
What does being a citizen of the City of God require of me?
How might we take more and more steps toward living eternally in the City of God now through loving kindness, doing justice, and walking humbly with God?

Staying on Mission

Today's Gospel (Mark 9:2-10) relates the Transfiguration of Jesus. I wrote about the Transfiguration previously (see the post from 02/17/08), so I thought I would touch on a point from the passage which immediately follows in the Gospel of Mark.

When Jesus comes down the mountain with Peter, James, and John, he finds a large, disquieted crowd of people waiting for him. There is a man waiting for Jesus to heal his son possessed by a spirit. The man says that he asked Jesus' disciples (the ones who did not ascend the mountain with Peter, James, and John) to heal his son, but that they could not.

Jesus isn't happy about this. He laments, "O faithless generation, how long will I be with you? How long will I endure you?" (9:19). Why is Jesus upset? Because his disciples couldn't heal this man's son. Why couldn't they heal this man's son? That's not exactly clear. But it is surprising. And for Jesus, it's disappointing.

That's because, since Jesus missioned his disciples (cf. Mk 6:7-13), they had been going out into the neighboring towns and were driving out demons, anointing the sick, and curing them. Why couldn't they heal this man's son?

I don't pretend to know any insider information, but I can't help but wonder if the disciples couldn't heal this man's son because they were too busy feeling left behind. Maybe they were wondering why Peter, James, and John were summoned up the mountain with Jesus and the other nine had to stay back? Maybe they were busy speculating about what was going on up on the mountain? Maybe they debated about going up there to see for themselves?

For whatever reason, the disciples who stayed behind forgot their mission (Mk. 6:7-13). They didn't see staying behind as an opportunity to continue Jesus' mission without him. Instead, Mark's gospel says that when Jesus came down from the mountain, he found a large crowd in the midst of a great argument. No wonder Jesus got upset. He leaves for a day or two and the disciples get nothing accomplished; instead, they're only in the midst of some brewing controversy.

I think this passage offers us great value, especially in this Lenten Season. It is always easy for us -- like those disciples who did not ascend the mountain with Peter, James, and John -- to feel left out, like we got the short end of the stick, or a raw deal. It's easy to look at other people and wish that we had their gifts, their talents, or their opportunities in life. As we sit and stew and grow ever more envious, aggravated, disappointed, or even desperate, we lose sight of what we have to offer, what we are called to do.

This can happen very easily in Lent, when we watch others enjoy what we have given up for this period of prayer, fasting, and service. We can watch someone else enjoy every bite of chocolate, savor a cup of coffee or a cold beer, or wonder what we're missing on Facebook and start to feel a little dejected about what we have given up, a little envious of others who aren't making this sacrifice, or even a little disgruntled with the church or with God for requiring this of us.

But then we, like those disciples who missed out on the Transfiguration, miss the whole point. Sure, the Transfiguration is a climactic event in the Synoptic Gospels; but Jesus didn't just call Peter, James, and John. He called 12 men to go into the world to spread the good news and heal the sick.

In the same way, giving something up for Lent isn't supposed to feel like a heavy obligation or that we're missing out on something good; it's supposed to give us the freedom to be more open to what God provides, more available to God's grace at work in the world, and more committed to working with God's grace in the lives of others.

As we celebrate this Second Sunday of Lent, as we start to really miss what we gave up 12 days ago, let us stay on mission.

How will you make the most of this time of prayer, fasting, and service?

Food for Thought While You Fast

It's easy to sound preachy when you write about religion. I hope I avoid that temptation.

One thing I've always found useful for making more time for God is questions. They spur reflection in a way that makes me consider my life in a new light. And ordinarily, they come across way less preachy than sharing a story or commenting on a Gospel parable or theological explanation.

Pax Christi has provided some excellent questions for the first two weeks of Lent. I am providing them here in case you were looking for some food for thought during this time of fasting, prayer, and service to others.


How do I reject the violence and injustice of earthly rule and power?
How do I incarnate the belief that God is Love in the mundaneness of every day?
Have I made anything other than God into an idol, an Ideal with a capital letter?
How can I better be Word, the manifestation of God's being, to the world?
What might it mean if I live as if I have no enemies: not people from different countries, ideologies, politics, beliefs?
In what ways do I seek to be assimilated to the world's power, culture, and seduction, rather than first being a citizen of God's community?
What appeal to my heart is Christ making this week?
How am I called to communal and personal transformation?
What relationships in my life need healing?
Have I lost my sense of self, my knowledge that I belong first to God?


These are provided courtesy of Joshua Casteel, in his book "The City of God: Reflections for Lent 2009" (https://paxchristiusa.3dcartstores.com/The-City-of-God-Reflections-for-Lent-2009_p_210.html). I will post more questions for reflection in future weeks.

Feel free to share your own, as well.

Let's pray for each other!

What Do You Make Time For?

Earlier today, Boston Archbishop Cardinal O'Malley opened his homily with a saying he'd recently heard:

When a couple is dating, the man talks and the woman listens.
When a couple gets married, the woman talks and the man listens.
A few years into marriage, the couple talks and the neighbors listen.
Not long after, the couple stops talking. Worse still, they stop listening.


I think the reason Cardinal O'Malley began his homily like this is to remind us how easy it is for us to take our loved ones for granted. It happens to the best of us. It even happens with our soul mates. We say "I do" to "'til death do us part" and think the hard work is over. But the truth is, it's only just begun. Moreover, the hard work never ends.

In the same way that it's easy for us to take our relationships for granted, it's easy for us to take our relationship with God for granted. We know God loves us and is always there for us. We know that will never change. So it's easy to push that relationship to the back burner and move on to more pressing matters.

This is precisely why we need the Season of Lent. This "baptismal retreat" is the season in the liturgical year which encourages us to shake things up, break out of the rut we're in, and take stock in our relationship with God. The point of prayer, fasting, and service to others is to stop taking God for granted.

Lent asks us: "What do you make time for?"

In his Lenten address, Pope Benedict XVI (http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/benedict_xvi/messages/lent/documents/hf_ben-xvi_mes_20081211_lent-2009_en.html), tells us that prayer, fasting, and service gives us the focus and discipline to "allow Him to come and satisfy the deepest hunger that we can experience in the depths of our being: the hunger and thirst for God."

It might seem silly to give something up for Lent, to cut out time spent playing video games, watching ESPN, reading gossip magazines, or checking what our friends have been up to on Facebook. But time is money, meaning it has great value. What do you make time for? What is important to you?

It makes sense to say that your friends are important and to make time for them. But where does God fit in amid family, friends, school, work, and everything else?

What do you make time for?

We spend a whole lot of time being restless, anxious, insecure, doubting, afraid, and even feeling alone. And I think this has a lot to do with how we spend our time. As St. Augustine wrote, "Our hearts are restless until they rest in you, O Lord."

How do couples avoid taking each other for granted? They make time for each other. They are intentional about finding ways to connect, to communicate, and to be open and honest together.

In precisely the same way, we can re-connect with God and stop taking Him for granted. All it takes is making time for God. What does that mean? Well, it begins with taking a few minutes of our day to stop, to be mindful of ALL we have to be grateful for, and ask God to give us the comfort and strength to be the person He knows we can be.

Especially during Lent, one way to make time for God is to spend a bit of time each day with the readings of the day. I'd recommend the meditations provided by the Word Among Us:
http://wau.org/meditations/current/

This is the perfect way to re-connect with God, to stop taking Him for granted, and to satisfy that hunger in the very depth of our being.

And it's a great answer to that question about what you make time for.

Lenten Resources

Lent is here. 40 days and 40 nights of intentional time to pray, fast, and serve those around us. A time to purify our lives from temptation and sin, doubt and anxiety, and most especially the thoughts, words, and habits which turn us away from God's infinite love.

To be sure, the point of this time is to be more open and aware of God's grace in our lives, to love our God with all our heart, all our soul, and all our mind, and to love one another as we are loved. In short, Lent is about how we are called to live each and every day. But life gets so busy, so chaotic, and so stressful that we lapse into "coping mode."

Lent is about breaking free from just coping. It's about getting back to our roots: faith, hope, and love. It's about turning our heart towards God in such a way that we are transformed. Truthfully, our goal for the next six weeks should not just be to give up something or do more random acts of kindness. Instead, let our hope and prayer this Lent be about making more room in our lives for God, so by the time Easter is here we can fully celebrate the JOY of the Resurrection -- and be changed in such a way that we can more fully rely on God's merciful love and abundant providence -- from here on out.


Like everything in life, we get out of Lent what we put into it. So here are some resources to help us make the most of this season:


From the Vatican:
http://www.vatican.va/liturgical_year/lent/2009/index_lent2009_en.html


From the US Catholic Bishops:
http://www.usccb.org/lent/


From the Word Among Us:
http://wau.org/meditations/current/


From Pax Christi:
http://www.paxchristiusa.org/news_Events_more.asp?id=1507


From American Catholic:
http://www.americancatholic.org/Features/Lent/


From the Irish Jesuits at Sacred Space:
http://sacredspace.ie/en/lent/


From Creighton University:
http://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/Lent/


From Bread for the World:
http://www.bread.org/get-involved/at-church/lenten-resources.html


That's what I love about our church: this is NOT an individual challenge. Well, of course it is, but we're not alone in this. So let us travel together this Lent to grow ever more open to and reliant upon God's merciful love and abundant providence!

Who Are You Bringing to Christ?

Although we're still early in Mark's Gospel, already Jesus has made quite a name for himself. After a number of healings and cures, Jesus heads out to the desert for some peace, quiet, and prayer. But the crowds kept coming to him.

So in today's Gospel (Mk 2:1-12), Jesus returns to Capernum. And the crowds are ready for him. People are so tightly packed in that the four men who are carrying a paralyzed man resort to to climbing onto the roof of the house, break the roof, and lower the man so he can be healed by Jesus.

What a scene this must have been!

Can you imagine the crowd of people waiting to see Jesus and be healed? Can you imagine what it must have been like for Jesus to sit in the house, welcoming people in and curing them of all kinds of illness? What was it like when the men climbed the roof? And started breaking through? Why didn't Jesus stop them? Why didn't the owner of the house? Why didn't the crowd let the paralytic in the door or through a window?

It's hard to imagine what all this must have been like for Jesus, for the paralytic, and for the crowd.

And especially those four men who carried the paralytic up to the roof, broke through, and lowered him down. Can you imagine the courage it took to do that? The faith?

I think today's Gospel offers us some much-needed perspective.
We stand in line for tickets to concerts, for good seats to a basketball game, for the release of a new phone, computer, or iPod. Would we wait hours and hours for Christ?

If we think about the story from the paralytic's view, it is valuable to think about who has brought us to Christ. To whom do we depend for our faith? Parents? Grandparents? Sponsors or Godparents? A friend? A priest or nun? A teacher? Have I told these people that I am grateful for this gift they have given me?

Finally -- and perhaps most importantly -- if we think about the story from the perspective of the four men who carried the paralytic, we might ask ourselves: Who am I bringing to Christ? How do people experience God's light and love through my actions? How do I share the Good News of the Gospel through how I live each day?


These are good questions to ask ourselves every now and then -- and especially today.

AMDG

Since I have been the proud recipient of 10 years of Jesuit education, I have been deeply formed by the Society's most central motto: AMDG: Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam: For the Greater Glory of God. I knew this phrase was made popular by the Jesuit's founder, St. Ignatius of Loyola. But I did not know that it was a phrase incorporated into the signature of Pope John Paul II. Or that J. S. Bach wrote the phrase on all his compositions.

Speaking of good company, in today's Second Reading (1 Corinthains 10:31-11:1), St. Paul issues us this exact challenge:

Brothers and sisters, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God ... Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.

So we are left with a simple question today: Whose glory do you live for?

Sure, this is a big-picture question. It frames why we live and how we live. But I think sometimes AMDG is even more valuable when we take it small-scale. It can shape our habits and interactions such that, when in class, at work, in the grocery store, at the gym -- and dare I say it, on the road, in the car -- that we truly aspire to live for the greater glory of God.

When I was in high school, I wrote these four letters on my papers and in my notebook. And in nearly every email I send, I write these four letters under my name. Maybe it can get trite that way, but my hope -- especially in taking the time to type the letters (and not just include them in an automatic signature line) -- is to shape even my emails for the greater glory of God. I have to tell you, I've changed the content of some of those notes just to keep it congruent with what those letters mean.

And that's what AMDG and today's reading are about: a reminder about WHY we live and HOW we live it. Let our prayer this day be that all we think, say, and do will be for the greater glory of God.

Amen!

Who is Your Truth?

Today's Gospel (Mk 1:21-28) seems strange to our modern ears. Why are we talking about unclean spirits? About teaching and authority? And why does Jesus keep telling people to keep quiet about his real identity?

The fact that Jesus continues to tell people to keep quiet about him is an ongoing theme in Mark's Gospel. It's called the "Messianic Secret," part of the way that Mark tells his Gospel so that the reader (or originally, the hearer), would only get bits and pieces of the big picture -- until Christ's death and resurrection. Only then does one get the "full picture," and Mark's account ends so abruptly that the reader is encouraged to start all over again, this time with the end in view. Only this way can we know who Jesus really is and make sense of the story of his life. But as we read the gospels, we have to keep in mind that the disciples and the Jews and Gentiles had little sense of what this was whole story was driving at.

So why the story about the unclean spirit? Scholars explain that this symbolizes the presence of the devil, the one who did know where all this was headed. And the one who above wall, wanted to stop it. So many times we will find unclean spirits announcing Jesus as the Messiah, the Christ, the one we wait for. And if everyone knows who Jesus really is, the crowds will be so great that Jesus' whole mission will be immobilized. Or co-opted by political aspiration. Or cut short because of its threat to the stability of the Roman Empire. In any event, if people really knew who Jesus was, they would stop what they are doing and follow him.

Why? Because Jesus has authority. He speaks truth. He heals, cures, and above all - he SAVES. The Gospel of John says it best: Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:6). He speaks with authority because he is the Word of God incarnate. Jesus has become one like us, among us, to show us the way, to bring us life to the full. This was the central message of Christianity, and it's a huge reason why it spread from a small band of Jesus followers in mid-first century to thousands and then hundreds of thousands in just a few hundred years.

And today, since we are surrounded by Christianity, it's easy to take this Truth for granted. In postmodern culture, it's easy to see this Truth as just one among many truths. And once we concede this point -- that truth is relative (what is true for me is not necessarily true for you) -- we strip Jesus of his most central value: as THE TRUTH (not just a truth).

To be sure, there are lots of people out there working very hard to make it seem like Christianity holds truth, but it is not true, or only some-what true, or even just another religion out of so many.

And there are others who would like us to think that religion -- pure and simple -- is nonsense. Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, and Sam Harris are among a group of "new atheists" pushing this very point. But not one of them is a theologian or philosopher. They have not made a compelling case to defeat the proof of the existence of God or the Truth of Christ. And what is more, they have missed the whole point. Christianity is about faith and reason. Certainly, we are called to use our mental faculties to comprehend matters of faith. This is the whole point of the natural law tradition -- that reason, in fact, is the universal tool by which God makes His laws known to all. But Christianity is not just another academic discipline; it doesn't just belong in books or under a microscope, we have to see "with the eyes of faith." We have to read the Gospels with the end in view. We have to know how the story of Christ ends for any of the rest to make sense.

Now I'm not one to poke fun at people's beliefs. But if you want to see what I'm talking about in terms of just how irrational it is for believers to listen to people like Richard Dawkins, rent Ben Stein's documentary, "Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed!" I'm not making an argument for intelligent design, but if you watch the end of the film, when Ben Stein interviews Richard Dawkins and asks about the origin of the universe and the creation of human beings, you will see what I mean.

I think the bottom line in today's Gospel is just this: we have to ask ourselves, "What is your truth?" And maybe even more importantly, "Who is your truth?" This reminds me of that parable about building a house on sand or rock (cf. Mt. 7:24-29). What is your foundation in life? Or better, who?

For God So Loved YOU

Today the Church celebrates the 2,000th birthday of St. Paul. To pay tribute to such an event -- and the man most consider to deserve credit for spreading the Good News of Christianity from a small sect of Jesus followers to Gentiles and much of the Mediterranean world (which would spread the whole world over) -- Pope Benedict has declared this a Pauline Year.

And although we might be familiar with the story we hear in today's readings about the conversion of Paul, it's worth noting what the life of St. Paul is all about. There is no disputing the fact that it is quite remarkable that this man, a devout Jew and persecutor of the first Christians would go on to become one of the most important (if not the most important) follower and promoter of the Good News of Jesus Christ. But what is perhaps most notable is why St. Paul had this conversion and spent the remainder of his life sharing and spreading the Good News.

Although today's first reading from Acts discusses the conversion story, I would refer you to Paul's letter to the Galatians to uncover this important insight. In the end of the second chapter of this letter, St. Paul writes,

For through the law I died to the law, that I might live for God. I have been crucified with Christ; yet I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me; insofar as I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God who has loved me and given himself up for me.

The key line here (for me, at least), is "I live by faith in the Son of God who has loved me and given himself up for me." St. Paul is driven not by rules, order and law, not by duty or command, but by the conviction that he knows God's love for him. The notion that Christ died on the cross not for some anonymous person or the sin of all humanity, but for the love God has for St. Paul was so utterly powerful that St. Paul could not help but spend the rest of his life traveling all around the Mediterranean Sea, enduring persecution, trying to heal the conflict and dissension in the early Christian communities, even imprisonment.

And this truth -- that God loves us -- is something we, too, ought to feel compelled to share. In today's Gospel (Mark 16:15-18), Jesus tells us,

"Go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature."

The gospel ("good news") is that God loves us. God loves us so much that He sent His Only Begotten Son to save the whole world (John 3:16) to show us the way (the term Luke uses for Christianity), to suffer and die on a cross, like a common criminal. God loves us. Each one and every one. Just as we are.

St. Paul was so moved by this that he spent the rest of his life writing and preaching, trying to tell every last person he could this Good News.

Let us, like St. Paul, "go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature."

St. Francis of Assisi said, "preach the Gospel always, but use words only if necessary."

How do you show that you are loved by God? How do you show others that they -- and every human person -- are loved by God?

What will you do with this Good News?

Prayers (Especially) Today

Today is truly a historic day. During his Inauguration, President Barack Obama himself noted, just a few decades ago, men like he weren't able to sit at restaurant counters; today he is taking the highest oath in the land.

And taken together with the celebrations of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. yesterday, I can't help but feel the surge in hope that we have come so far and our future is so bright.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Yesterday we celebrated a man who gave his life working for justice. We don't have many national holidays set aside for a single man (except Columbus, and one could argue Columbus might be one of the least-deserving men to have a day set aside for): all our war heroes share Memorial Day; all our great Presidents share Presidents' Day (though it is celebrated around Washington's alleged birthday); all our irreplaceable patriots get are celebrated on Independence Day. And although Dr. Martin Luther King did inspire a great civil rights movement, he was far from perfect.

In fact, King's legacy is rife with controversy. Some might believe it uncouth to discuss them; I think it's sobering to recall the truth. Some might know his story better than others: the night before he was assassinated, Dr. King was spending the night in a Memphis hotel with a prostitute, a temptation he was often unable to overcome. And in 1990, an academic council at Boston University confirmed that Dr. King plagiarized a great deal of his doctoral dissertation from the 1950s. They just didn't feel it right to strip a national hero of his PhD.

I'm not trying to slander Dr. King. We all have our heroes. And none of them are perfect. This is something we need to remember -- even on this historic day.

I'm not saying politicians and athletes deserve the same level of respect and tribute, but my first hero (after my dad, of course), was probably Michael Jordan. Like a lot of little boys my age, I loved watching what MJ could do on a basketball court and I read just about every article and book on him I could find. But there were few stories which would divulge MJ's late night escapades and addiction to gambling (which some believe was the root cause of his father's murder). Not too long ago, Charles Barkley was arrested for a DUI with a sky-high blood alcohol level and Mr. Barkley has often addressed his own struggles with gambling. Maybe this is a reason he was so dead-set against being called a role model?

Others aren't so uncomfortable with the idea. One particular man I came to respect and admire, Dwyane Wade (a classmate of mine at Marquette University), is currently undergoing a heart-breaking divorce from his high-school sweetheart. He has long been a darling of the media and NBA; just two years ago, he was named Father of the Year! And speaking of Wisconsin connections, in Packerland, we cannot forget Brett Favre's addiction to painkillers or Mark Chmura's demise thanks to (at least) one inappropriate night in a hot tub.

There is a long list of men who have accomplished great deeds but who were not always virtuous. I remember the debates in high school about whether or not President Clinton was a good president. After Monica Lewinsky, it was hard to argue on the basis of his morals; but what about his policies? Surely the instances of his sexual infidelity is not the first -- or last -- time that the great office has been tarnished. Our nation's sole Catholic President -- JFK -- is considered by some to be perhaps the worse offender.

And to be sure, our Scriptures are full of such stories, too. Moses was a murderer. David conspired to kill the man whose wife he slept with. And we have to know none of the first disciples -- or popes since -- were perfect. In fact the life of the saints just as well might be called the life of the sinners. God has no choice but to work through and with us -- earthen vessels -- to effect His grace in the world.

And that's my point: we all have our own demons; none of us are perfect. I'm not trying to sit in my glass house and throw stones. And I'm truly not seeking to sour this historic day. But I would like to inject a bit of realism into what has turned into a whole lot of frenzied idealization of this moment and this one man. We might have made Barack Obama a symbol of our hope for a brighter future, a better country, and a higher road, but he is still just a man. Just like you and me. I think there's a great danger in honoring men like JFK, MLK, or President Obama. One, we can put them on a pedastal where no man (or woman) belongs. Two, we can convince ourselves that greatness (whether in service, social justice, or even athletic achievement) is reserved for only a few, pre-ordained individuals.

Instead, we ought to look for the ways WE are called to be great. MLK once said that "everyone can be great because everyone can serve." He's absolutely right. And today, while we can celebrate President Obama's historic accomplishment and the direction our country may be headed under his leadership, we also must rally together, as President Obama called for today, to promote and provide for the common good. And above all, we must put our trust solely in God and not in this -- or any other -- man.

Today, President Obama referred to words from President Washington during the Revolution in the depths of winter when "nothing but hope and virtue could survive."

I concur that we need to turn to hope instead of fear. Desmond Tutu famously claimed that Christians are "prisoners of hope." Eschatological hope is what drives us forward and revives us in the face of finitude and sin. And finitude and sin are things none of us can escape. But it also doesn't let us off the hook in terms of our responsibility to love our neighbor, the stranger, and even our enemy.

But virtue cannot be lost on us, either. Not only is this my prayer for President Obama, but it is my prayer for each one of us (and especially myself -- again, I'm not writing this from a high horse). Aristotle's notion of virtue rests firmly on balance and moderation, and leads to ultimate fulfillment, flourishing, and happiness. Surely, in days like ours, virtue in general (that is, moral excellence), and virtues specifically (like fortitude, justice, prudence, and temperance) is precisely what we stand in need of.

So as we pray for our new president, let us also pray for ourselves. Let us ask God to bless us richly, bestow on us the gifts of the Holy Spirit, to revel in wisdom that discerns well, knowledge to do right, courage that acts and speaks with integrity, just commitment to compassion for all, humble service, and piety, praise, and awe for the Lord whom we trust in above all others. Let us see in the example of President Obama and hear in the echo of MLK that we are all called to be great because we are all called to serve.

As I wrote long ago, the election of President Obama is not about the end of racism or prejudice or injustice. It is not the end of fear or dirty politics. It is not the end of a government content with the status quo and concerned with the special interests of a few. It is not the end of anything. Instead, let it be a new beginning where we work with our government to create a world of liberty and justice for all.

But let us also be about humility, balance and moderation, moral excellence, and hope -- even if unsavory stories are to surface about President Obama, his cabinet, or our newly-elected government. Let us, in the words of Pope Benedict, place our hope ultimately in “God, who encompasses the whole of reality and who can bestow upon us what we, by ourselves, cannot attain.”

This is because God's "love alone gives us the possibility of soberly persevering day by day, without ceasing to be spurred on by hope, in a world which by its very nature is imperfect. His love is at the same time our guarantee of the existence of what we only vaguely sense and which nevertheless, in our deepest self, we await: a life that is ‘truly’ life" (Spe Salvi, #31).

That's because unlike the high which this inauguration has brought, our hope fixed on God will never fade, because God, unlike our human heroes and idols, will not disappoint. And to be sure, we cannot make hope our golden calf, either. Instead, let us rely also on virtue to be the means and ends to this "true life" that awaits us, and in the meantime, ceaseless work for liberty and justice for all.

Today, let us celebrate a historic feat and the start of a new era. And let us also affix our trust firmly on God and ask that His Holy Spirit guide our new president, our newly-elected government, and each one of us to, in the words of Jesus who quotes the prophet Isaiah,

"to bring good news to the poor ... to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord" (Luke 4:18-19).

After all, we're all God has to work with: earthen vessels (2 Cor. 4:7). We, like MLK, President Obama, and the countless leaders before them, are still finite and sinful. Nevertheless, "those who lead the many to justice shall be like the stars forever" (Daniel 12:3). God doesn't just call the qualified. God qualifies the called.

And all of us are called to serve one another. Let's get to work!

One Like Us

When I was little, I hated when, after the homily, my parish priest would walk over to the baptismal font instead of returning to his seat.

"Oh, no." I thought. A baptism. That means Mass is going to be even longer.
Why couldn't these people be more considerate? Didn't they know that Mass was long enough? Couldn't they wait until after Mass to have their kid baptized?

Thinking back to how annoyed I was about baptism during Mass, I have to laugh. Not only is this pretty selfish, it's actually bad theology. The whole point of baptism, besides the remission of sins, is the entrance rite. Baptism is how we enter into the church. What better way to incorporate a new member into our faith community than during the celebration of the Eucharist, the "source and summit" of the Christian life?

I couldn't help but think about this during today's liturgy, since in the Gospel (Mt. 1:7-11), Jesus gets baptized.

Wait a second.

Baptism is a Christian Sacrament. Why would Jesus ask John the Baptist to be submerged in the Jordan River like all the other Jews who were flocking to John (remember the Gospel from the first week of Advent?) to be cleansed of sin?


This is a short but complex passage. And it's one that gives us rich insight into Jesus' identity and mission.


First of all, because Christ is "like us in all things but sin" (cf. Phil. 2:7) baptism as the remission of original sin is unnecessary for Jesus. But as we just mentioned, baptism -- then and now -- is not only about remission of sin, but also about entrance into community. This epiphany ("This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased") is not only about the divinity of Jesus, but also his humanity: Jesus himself sets the example for his disciples, both in being received into the larger community and also He "became and fulfilled all righteousness" (Mt. 3:15). This humbling and kenotic (self-emptying) gesture also foreshadows the Cross (for more about this, consult the Catechism of the Catholic Church, #1223-1226).


Secondly, it's significant that the baptism of Christ takes place in the Jordan River. In the Old Testament, Joshua leads the Israelites into the Promised Land by crossing the Jordan. This river (like the Red Sea in Exodus) represents the chaos and death that Yahweh delivers His people from. Again, this passage points to the crucifixion (the ultimate experience of chaos and death as God Who is Love gives His life for the salvation of all), in which Jesus enters the waters of the Jordan to lead us to the Promised Land: heaven.

It's no coincidence that Jesus and Joshua come from the same name in Hebrew (which means "God saves"). Joshua is a man who is faithful to God and leads God's chosen people to their destined land; Jesus is the Word of God incarnate who beckons ALL people to their destiny, which is everlasting life in union with God (heaven).

But Jesus does not do this from on high, out of reach of humanity. The Christ Hymn in Philippians 2:5-11 is likely the oldest passage in the New Testament. It is our earliest Christology, reminding us that,

"though he was in the form of God, [Jesus] did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death -- even death on a cross. Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."

Finally, then, this epiphany is -- as Rahner describes the Incarnation as God's irreversible commitment to all humanity -- a sign of Jesus' solidarity with us. Yes, the appearance of the dove and the voice from heaven speak to the fact that Jesus is God and God saves. But the MAN Jesus saves through self-emptying, through self-gift, through solidarity. Jesus becomes one like us to show us in the clearest way possible how to cross through chaos on death to eternal life.

So what does this mean for us? Yes, we have been saved. But not by some high and mighty God who is too good for us, who cannot relate to us, or who is ultimately apathetic about human destiny. We have been saved by a God who is so desperately in love with us that He takes human form to become one of us and show us the way.

And as the way (and the truth and the life), Jesus' identity and mission shows us that the key here is solidarity. It's about accompanying one another on the journey because faith and salvation are not just personal concerns. My relationship with God is not private, not only vertical; it is also communal and public and horizontal. We need both transepts of the cross: the vertical and the horizontal. And Jesus' baptism in the Jordan is a prelude to his whole life and ministry which will demonstrate exactly that.

The One like us is the first one to remind us that yes, "God saves." What is more, that faith in God begins with solidarity with all.

After all, we're in this together. And that's why now, I love baptisms during Mass.

The First Step

A new year brings thoughts of a clean slate, new beginnings, new outlooks, and new promises. I always love hearing what people resolve to do differently -- and then watch how long that lasts. We really aren't that comfortable with change. And boy are we bad at incorporating it into our lives.

Experts (well, at least people who study this kind of thing -- I don't know what would qualify someone to be an expert in change) say that to make something a habit you have to do it 21 times. I'm not sure how accurate that is, but it is interesting to think about what our minds and bodies need to develop new routines or perspectives or commitments.

But sometimes we are changed without trying. Most of the time this is due to some external event which is either catastrophic or so completely compelling that we cannot bear to return to our old way of life. I know people who have quit smoking or drinking or even speeding because of a single event in their lives. It's almost as if they had a "Eureka!" moment, saw the light, and were converted -- no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

These are rare but effective experiences of conversion. And when I think of conversion, I think of the life of the saints, people who, like Paul or Augustine, can pin-point a single incontrovertible "God experience" which turned their hearts toward faith in Him.

But most of us are more like James than Paul. We were born in the faith. We were raised in the faith. And more often than not, we attribute our faith more to comfort or routine or identity than anything else. The trouble is, once faith becomes a routine, it has lost the centrality of its meaning. Faith is about our "Yes" to God and to living out the Greatest Commandment: to love our God with all our heart and all our soul and our mind. It's hard to do that when we compartmentalize faith into one hour on Sunday or find ourselves just going through the motions.

So what do we do about this? Especially now, in this time of year when we envision big, impressive ways to change our lives.

I think that's what today (the Feast of the Epiphany) is about. Today we celebrate the magi tracing the star in the sky to find Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. And boy, the Holy Family must have been surprised to have the magi find them -- they were hanging out in a manger in a field outside a village they didn't even live in. But thanks to the magi's attentiveness to the sky, they were able to recognize the discontinuity in the pattern, the break in the routine, and do something about it.

It's what some people call a "Moses moment," as in when Moses saw the burning bush. The biblical text suggests that Moses was physically drawn to the bush when he says, "I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush does not burn" (Ex. 3:3).

In this instance, God used the burning bush to get Moses' attention. In the case of the Gospel today (Mt. 2:1-12), God uses the star in the sky to draw the magi toward Christ. Last week it was Simeon and Anna who were drawn to Christ in the temple, faithful people who went out of their way to acknowledge God in their midst.

And that's what epiphany means: to appear. God shows up and is made present to us. This is what we call revelation: God's self-communication to us. We treasure its record in Scripture and in the tradition, through the lived experience of the communion of saints.

But the key here is that this epiphany requires something of us. Moses could have walked past the burning bush; the magi could have ignored the star; Simeon and Anna could have been so focused on worship in the temple that they merely missed the Christ child in the crowd. But they didn't. Why?

First, because they were attentive. Watchful. Ready. And open. And even though, as we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany in 2009, we might feel well-removed from the original experience, the ritual of re-reading the story of the magi and sitting with this passage from Scripture urges us to be attentive today.

Second, they were moved to act. And I don't mean in some radical way -- at least at first. Moses just walked over to the bush. This would eventually lead him to liberate the Hebrews from slavery in Egypt, but it just started with a closer look. And a closer look is exactly what the magi wanted, which is why they traveled thousands of miles to the shepherds' fields outside Bethlehem. So whether God's communication of God's self requires a few steps -- or a gigantic journey -- the point is to take that first step.

This is because God's self-manifestation is an invitation to a more intimate relationship. It is not only drawing us towards, but drawing us in. We are called to share in the mystery of the Divine Life, a communion of love. I have written before that God is wildly in love with us and desperately seeks to be in a relationship with us. But this requires us to make use of our free will and enter this relationship. That means being attentive (so as not to miss the invitation), and then taking the first step to get a better look.

It's the start of a life-long journey, one of countless steps. But, as Confucius said, even the journey of a thousand steps begins with just one.

The epiphany is to get our attention, to get us to notice that God IS present. But unless we look for it and take that first step, we'll just keep minding our own business, miss the whole point, and remain content in our mundane routine. And a lot of people do that. Thank God Moses and the magi didn't.