Caritas Christi Urget Nos

Category: Reading

  • The Third Sunday in Easter

    The Third Sunday in Easter

    Today’s readings

    How often have you said something that began with “I’ll be happy when…”?  You know, “I’ll be happy when I’m done paying for the kids’ college tuition;” “I’ll be happy when I get that promotion;” “I’ll be happy when I lose that last ten pounds;” “I’ll be happy when I can afford that new car…”  We’ve all done it, we’ve all set our hopes for happiness on some future event or accomplishment.  But then it gets there, or it doesn’t, and we’re not as happy as we’d like to be, so we look for happiness in something else.  Today’s Liturgy of the Word tells us that we’re doing it wrong.  We have to learn that we’re supposed to be happy in the journey.

    Listen to what the Psalmist says today: “You will show me the path to life, abounding joy in your presence, the delights at your right hand forever.”  Abounding joy happens along the path to life, at God’s right hand, who accompanies us on the journey.  Today’s Gospel finds two of Jesus’ disciples on a journey from Jerusalem, where a lot of crazy stuff just happened, to Emmaus.  Along the way, they are discussing what had been going on, and we can just imagine how their minds had to be reeling!  For those of us who know the story, it’s pretty incredible.  But for them it had to have been mind blowing.  They were never expecting anything like this.  But here they were, walking along, discussing how Jesus’ death and everything that happened afterward turned all of their expectations upside-down, and they didn’t know what to make of it all.

    And into that experience, as they journeyed along the road, Jesus appears.  They don’t get that it’s Jesus, though.  So along the way, he explains how all the scriptures foretold all that had happened to their friend, who happened to be talking to them right then.  But they still don’t get it.  So after they stop for the evening and invite him to dinner, they finally recognize him in the breaking of the bread.  All of this, I think, is very interesting to us who are on the journey to be with the Lord and delight at his right hand forever.

    Because we’re all on a journey, brothers and sisters.  We are never at home in this world, as nice as it is.  We’re supposed to be in heaven, where there will be happiness forever.  But we can still seek reasonable happiness here on earth, and I believe we will find it if we just rejoice a little in the journey.  But to really enjoy the journey, we have to enter into it with our whole hearts and souls.  We can’t be wandering off the path and looking for happiness in all the wrong places.  We have to focus on the journey from here to heaven if we ever really want to be happy in this life.

    So how do we do that?  Well, I think our Gospel story gives us some clues.  The first is to keep moving on the journey.  If God has called you to do something, go somewhere, try something, change something, then do that thing!  When we stop going because we think we’re not good enough, or that someone else would be more worthy, or whatever excuse we have, then we’re selling God short.  Because the truth is we are not good enough, all by ourselves.  We’re not the most worthy.  But, and this is very important to know, brothers and sisters, God can call whoever he wants to do whatever he wants done.  It’s not about you or me or who’s doing it.  God is in charge, always and forever, and he will always give you what you need to do what he’s called you to do.  So keep going.

    The second clue is we don’t go it alone.  There were two disciples going to Emmaus, and into their journey, our Lord asserted himself.  He promised that elsewhere in the Gospel: “Where two or three are gathered, there am I among you.”  Other people on the journey give us accountability.  They help to keep us on the right path.  And frankly, it’s more pleasant to journey with others, well, usually!

    The third clue is that we have to open ourselves up to the scriptures.  The scriptures aren’t just stories written for people thousands of years ago.  They are inspired by the Holy Spirit and intended as much for us as they were for our ancestors in faith.  You will be surprised how much the scriptures speak to you when you open them up on a regular basis.  Just a few verses a day is a great way to start, and it can really enliven your prayer.  The scriptures enlivened that journey with the disciples and made their hearts burn within them.  That can happen for us too, and it should.

    The final clue comes in the breaking of the bread.  That one seems pretty obvious, but it was a real eye opener for those two disciples.  In the breaking of the bread, they saw the Lord.  We can too, every time we receive the Holy Eucharist.  Just as those disciples came to recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread, so it can be for us.  Filled with the grace of Holy Communion, maybe we can recognize our Lord with fresh eyes and truly see him in our brothers and sisters.  Maybe we will see our Lord in the faces of the needy when we come to serve them.  Maybe you will see him in the faces of your children as you teach them and correct them and love them into the kingdom of God.  Maybe you will see him in the face of a coworker or friend who is going through a difficult time.  As we love those people the Lord puts in our paths, maybe we can see our Lord among us in a new way.

    You’ve probably heard, “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.”  For us Catholics that’s half right.  Because yes, it is about the destination.  We certainly want to get to the ultimate happiness of heaven.  But it needs to be about the journey too.  Because it’s on the journey that we grow in our faith, and see our Lord walking with us.  The journey might be long and difficult, but it’s always blessed by our Lord if we choose to look for our happiness along the way.

    Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

  • Sixteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Sixteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    xl christ in the house of martha and mary

    Most of the time when I preach, the homily isn’t really for me. There is always something in the Scriptures that speaks to me in some way, but the main message that I receive from God is not necessarily addressed to me. That’s how preaching works: the Word is for all of us, not something the preacher gets to keep for himself. But today’s Scriptures are a little different. They have had something to say to my own spiritual life, and the message has been coming through loud and clear. My guess is, though, that this message isn’t just for me.

    I sometimes say about the Scriptures “this is one of my favorite readings.” Today’s Gospel is the opposite. I have always found this Gospel challenging, and it makes me squirm inwardly every time I hear it. Because I’d always like to be Mary, but most every day I’m called upon to be Martha, and that makes me sad sometimes. As I reflected on my first year of priesthood, I found that I had not taken my yearly retreat, and that the only vacation I took was a few days to help my Dad in the days before he died. Maybe you can relate to this. Perhaps you’d like to spend more time in prayer, or reading the Bible, and instead you have to take care of the children, or you end up working late, or you just plain fall asleep from exhaustion at the end of the day. The truth is, some days we are way more Martha than we are Mary and if you’re like me, you feel a little guilty about that.

    Back in my first year of seminary, I was in charge of the Liturgies for our class. One day we had a class Liturgy and the Rector of the seminary was the celebrant. I was running around like a madman trying to make sure everything was perfect, and that the Rector would have everything he needed for Mass. When we finally got around to hearing the Gospel for the day, it was this one, and I realized I had fallen into the trap of missing what God was telling me while I was “anxious and worried about many things.” I remember sitting there, thinking, “rats.” So it’s no wonder this isn’t one of my favorite Gospels.

    But I have often found when the message isn’t one I’d like to hear, it’s because God is speaking to me about something I need to change in my life. Clearly that’s what’s going on here today. I have also found that when God starts speaking in this way, the best thing I can do is to be still and listen, letting God be God, and trying to find a way to do what he’s asking of me. So maybe all of us who find ourselves a bit too much Martha today can reflect on that message a bit.

    First off, let’s give Martha a bit of a break. Because there is a difference between the very legitimate and laudable act that Mary was doing – listening to the Word of Jesus – and just being plain old lazy. Many of us could be tempted down those roads too, and that’s not praiseworthy. You can’t claim to be “sitting at the feet of Jesus” when you’re just trying to avoid doing anything resembling work! And Martha’s tasks were important ones. The demands of hospitality in the ancient world were taken very seriously. Just as Abraham leapt to his feet in our first reading to welcome the three visitors and provide them with a beautiful meal, so Martha had things to do to care for her own guest.

    But where Martha went down the wrong path was that she let the details of the tasks of hospitality overshadow the hospitality itself. In doing all the things she was doing, she had actually neglected her guest. Perhaps there was a way that she could have provided refreshment to Jesus in a way that didn’t take her outside his company for so long. Maybe a simpler meal would have sufficed. When the details of hospitality overshadow the guest, then it’s not really hospitality at all.

    What’s at stake here is balance in our spiritual life. We are not called upon to make a choice between being Martha and being Mary. We are called upon to be both Martha and Mary. This scripture readings speaks of the service of the disciple, in Greek the word is diakonia, from which we derive our word, deacon. This tells us that the life of the Christian disciple – which is all of us, brothers and sisters in Christ – is about service. What we see in today’s Gospel is that there are two aspects of that service. The first is represented by Martha’s work, and is the kind of service that takes care of what is necessary in order that God’s will would be done: it is a service that reaches out to those in need. The second kind of service is represented by Mary’s work. Her work is one of contemplation: she sits at the feet of Jesus to absorb his words and his presence.

    Both kinds of service are necessary in the life of the Christian disciple. The trick is keeping them in balance. Because it is Mary’s contemplation that gives us the spiritual refreshment necessary to reach out to those in need. And it is Martha’s active service that gives meaning and context to our prayers and our preaching. When we avoid either aspect of service, we are getting it wrong, and perhaps our Gospel today is a tug at our hearts – I know it’s tugging at mine – to get it right.

    So we need to make time for both our work and our prayer. We have to give priority to contemplation and Scripture reading and whatever kind of prayer speaks to us just as much as we give priority to the demands of our vocations, whatever those vocations may be. We have to let God speak to us in our quiet and in our activity, and to remember that doing God’s will sometimes means getting quiet and sitting still long enough for him to speak to our hearts. It may take a lifetime to get this right, but as we put effort into our service of God, we too will be choosing the better part, and it will not be taken from us.

  • A Letter to Diognetus: We’re Not Home Yet

    A Letter to Diognetus: We’re Not Home Yet

    Today's Office of Readings has as its second reading an excerpt from a Letter to Diognetus.  This is one of my favorite readings.  I'm not sure why, because every year when I read it, it makes me feel uneasy, unworthy — yeah, all of that.  Listen to this portion of it:

    Christians love those who hate them just as the soul loves the body and all its members despite the body's hatred. It is by the soul, enclosed within the body, that the body is held together, and similarly, it is by the Christians, detained in the world as in a prison, that the world is held together. The soul, though immortal, has a mortal dwelling place; and Christians also live for a time amidst perishable things, while awaiting the freedom from change and decay that will be theirs in heaven. As the soul benefits from the deprivation of food and drink, so Christians flourish under persecution. Such is the Christian’s lofty and divinely appointed function, from which he is not permitted to excuse himself.

    That just reminds me that no, we're not home yet.  We are supposed to live as full citizens of the world, but also as aliens in it — the whole Catholic both/and approach to theology in general.  We must take our place here and make present the Kingdom of God on earth.  But we must always live remembering that we are not ultimately destined for life in this world, and so must not be too attached to things, people, anything that drags us away from our Creator.

  • The Power and the Glory, by Graham Greene

    The Power and the Glory, by Graham Greene

    The Power and the Glory, by Graham Greene

    I just finished reading The Power and the Glory for my Theology of Priesthood class. I must say that I enjoyed the novel, and found it to be a quick read.

    Quick as it was, though, there was a lot in there, of course. It was about failure, and how that failure can impact a community. It was about the dignity of priesthood, and how that can be lost or won, and what it really means. It was about pain and suffering, and how we need to fearlessly enter into it and move through it to redemption.

    The story is of a priest in early 20th century Mexico, a time when in Mexico priests and the Church were forbidden. Priests were forced to marry, or were shot. The protaganist of this story is a priest who did not marry, and is now on the run from the law.

    Was the priest a sinner or a saint? Well, probably the answer is the “Catholic Yes:” he was both/and … both a sinner and a saint. Throughout the story, he had a sense of his duty as a priest, and a concern for the souls entrusted to him. In the end, he gave up what he saw as his only salvation — a chance to confess his own sins — in order to possibly save someone else. Most of all, though, he looked back on the days when he wasn’t a wanted man to see that those were the days of corruption for him, and his journey to eventual martyrdom in his last days was the one that brought about his true conversion.

    I still haven’t figured out why, but the theme of pain really stood out for me, especially at the end of the book. The pain of Mrs. Fellowes’s sick headache, the pain of the jefe in the dentist chair, and the pain which the priest himself feared as he went to his execution. Maybe there’s been enough pain and sadness in my own life lately, with all that’s happened this quarter at the seminary, that this theme really grabbed me. As I learned on CPE, the pain doesn’t go away — and it is largely unresolved in the book — but you cannot be afraid to enter into it and be in it. Redemption happens for those who enter into the pain; we just have to enter it fearlessly and trust the grace of the God who loves us and calls us; the God who lived and died for us; the God who offers us everlasting life.