Caritas Christi Urget Nos

Category: Lent

  • Friday of the First Week in Lent

    Friday of the First Week in Lent

    Today’s readings

    It would be so much easier if we could define our own righteousness. If we could choose who to reach out to and who to ignore, life would be good, wouldn’t it? If we could hold grudges against some people and only have to forgive some people, we would easily consider ourselves justified. But the Christian life of discipleship doesn’t work that way. Instead, our righteousness must exceed that of the Pharisees or we have no part in the Kingdom of heaven. It’s that simple.

    So when we bear grudges, we murder. When we label people and then write them off, we are liable to judgment. Because justice and righteousness in the Kingdom of God isn’t about looking squeaky clean, it’s about being clean inside and out, changing our attitudes, changing our hearts, renewing our lives.

    If Lent purifies us in this way, we can truly pray with the Psalmist, “with the LORD is kindness and with him is plenteous redemption.”

  • Thursday of the First Week in Lent

    Thursday of the First Week in Lent

    Today’s readings

    During this first week of Lent, our Liturgies of the Word are teaching us about the Lenten disciplines: fasting, almsgiving and prayer. On Tuesday, we heard the Lord’s prayer, and today we hear the prayer of Esther and Jesus’ injunction to persistence in prayer.

    I love the story of Esther, and as I often tell people, you should read the entire book of Esther from the Bible (it’s not very long). It reminds us that we need a Savior. Esther’s adoptive father Mordecai was a deeply religious man. His devotion incurred the wrath of Haman the Agagite, who was a court official of King Ahasuerus of Persia. Mordecai refused to pay homage to Haman in the way prescribed by law, because it was idolatry. Because of this, Haman developed a deep hatred for Mordecai, and by extension, all of the Israelite people. He convinced King Ahasuerus to decree that all Israelites be put to death, and they cast lots to determine the date for this despicable event.

    Meanwhile, Esther, Mordecai’s adopted daughter, is chosen to fill a spot in the King’s harem, replacing Queen Vashti. Esther, however, never had revealed her own Israelite heritage to the King. She would, of course, be part of the extermination order. Mordecai came to Esther to inform her of the decree that Haman had proposed, and asked her to intercede on behalf of her own people to the King. She was terrified to do this because court rules forbade her to come to the king without an invitation. She asked Mordecai to have all of her people fast and pray, and she did the same. The prayer that she offered is beautifully rendered in today’s first reading.

    Esther knew that there was no one that could help her, and that it was totally on her shoulders to intercede for her people. Doing this was a risk to her own life, and the only one that she could rely on was God himself. Her prayer was heard, her people were spared, and Haman himself was hung from the same noose that had been prepared for Mordecai and all his fellow Israelites. This evening, in fact, is the beginning of the Jewish feast of Purim, which is a festive observance of this biblical story.

    God hears our own persistent prayers. We must constantly pray, and trust all of our needs to the one who knows them before we do. We must ask, seek and knock of the one who made us and cares for us deeply. Prayer changes things, and most of all, it changes us. It helps us to rely on God who gives us salvation through Jesus Christ, the One who shows us how to ask, seek, and knock.

  • The First Sunday in Lent

    The First Sunday in Lent

    Today’s readings

    The devil wants us to forget who we are. That we are created good by a God who loves us more than anything; that we can never fall far from grace if we stay close to Jesus; that we are sons and daughters of God who have the freedom to love and grow and think and work with God to create the world anew. None of that serves the devil’s purposes, and so in our time, really in all time, he has worked very hard to make us forget who we are. If you think about any scandal or problem in the world today, I think you’ll find that at the core of most of it is when people forget who they are.

    Forgetting who we are changes everything for the worse. It makes solving problems or ending scandal seem insurmountable: we constantly have to cook up new solutions to new problems, because we’ve gone in a new direction on a road that never should have been traveled. That was the scandal of Eden, and the scandal of the Tower of Babel, among others. Once we’ve forgotten who we are and acted impetuously, it’s hard to un-ring the bell.

    One of the consequences of forgetting who we are is that we forget who God is too. We no longer look to God to be our Savior, because we instead would like to solve things on our own. Perhaps we are embarrassed to come to God because we are deep in a problem of our own making. We see this all the time in our lives: who of us wants to go to a parent or teacher or boss or authority figure – or anyone, really – and tell them that we thought we had all the answers but now we’ve messed up and we can’t fix it and we desperately need their help? If that’s true then we’re all the more reluctant to go to God, aren’t we?

    This forgetting who we are, and forgetting who God is, is the spiritual problem that our readings are trying to address today. Moses meets the people on the occasion of the harvest sacrifice, and challenges them not to make the sacrifice an empty, rote repetition of a familiar ritual. They are to remember that their ancestors were wandering people who ended up in slavery in Egypt, only to be delivered by God and brought to a land flowing with milk and honey. And it is for that reason that they are to joyfully offer the sacrifice.

    St. Paul exhorts the Romans to remember who Jesus was and to remember his saving sacrifice and glorious resurrection. They are to remember that this faith in Christ gives them hope of eternity and that, calling on the Lord, they can find salvation.

    But it is the familiar story of Christ being tempted in the desert that speaks to us most clearly of the temptation to forget who we are and who God is. The devil would like nothing more than for Jesus to forget who he was and why he was here. He would have Jesus forget that real hunger is not satisfied by mere bread, but must be satisfied by God’s word. He would have Jesus forget that there is only one God and that real glory comes from obedience to God’s command and from living according to God’s call. He would have Jesus forget that life itself is God’s gift and that we must cherish it as much as God does.

    But Jesus won’t forget. Satan in his arrogance thinks he can make him forget, but he is not more powerful than Jesus. And so, Jesus refuses to turn stones into bread, remembering that God will take care of all his real hunger. He refuses to worship Satan and gain every kingdom of the world, remembering that he belongs to God’s kingdom. He refuses to throw away his life in a pathetic attempt to test God, remembering that God is trustworthy and that he doesn’t need to prove it.

    The way that we remember who we are as a Church is through the Sacred Liturgy. In the Liturgy of the Word, we hear the stories of faith handed down from generation to generation. These are the stories of our ancestors, from the Old Testament and the New. In the Liturgy of the Eucharist, we engage in anamnesis, a remembering, or re-presentation of Christ’s Passion and death, and as we do that, it becomes new for us once again; it brings us to Calvary and the empty tomb and the Upper Room. There is no better way for us to remember who we are as a people than to faithfully participate in the Sacred Liturgy.

    And so we come to this holy place on this holy day to remember that we are a holy people, made holy by our God. We remember who we are and who God is. We rely on the Spirit’s help to reject the temptations of Satan that would call us to forget who we are and instead become a people of our own making. We have come again to another Lent. Lent is a time of conversion and springtime and re-creation. For the people in our Order of Christian Initiation for Adults – OCIA – it is a time of conversion from one way of life to another as they approach the Easter Sacraments. For the rest of us, Lent is a time of continued re-conversion and re-commitment to our sacramental life. Our Church teaches us that conversion is a life-long process. In conversion, we see who our God is more clearly and we see ourselves in a new, and truer light – indeed we see who we really are before God.

    That is life in God as it was always meant to be. Remembering our God, remembering who we are, we have promise of being set on high, as the Psalmist proclaims today. This Lent can lead us to new heights in our relationship with God. Praise God for the joy of remembering, praise God for the joy of Lent.

  • Saturday after Ash Wednesday

    Saturday after Ash Wednesday

    Today’s readings

    “Those who are healthy do not need a physician, but the sick do.”

    A few months ago, I had a reaction to my cholesterol meds: hives, itching, severe joint pain. At first it was just the hives and I dismissed it, thinking it was a bug bite. But they quickly spread. I was thinking if it didn’t get better I’d call the doctor the next day. But then I realized I had had this reaction before, and I knew it wasn’t going to go away on its own. I was sick, and I needed a physician. How often, though, do we just dismiss the illnesses we have and hope for the best?

    It’s important that we learn to do that in the spiritual life. If you don’t think you need a physician for your spiritual life, then you aren’t going to get much out of Lent, I’m afraid, and that’s sad. If you don’t admit you’re sick, you deprive yourself of the doctor. If you don’t admit your spiritual life is ailing, you deprive yourself of the Savior. Jesus is very clear today: he came to call sinners to conversion, and that includes all of us. It’s been said that the Church is not a museum of saints, but a hospital for sinners. And thank God that’s true, because all of us, me and you, all of us, need the medicine of grace in our spiritual lives time and time again. And the good news is that Jesus gives us Lent to do just that. Let’s be converted, be healed, be made whole so that the glory of Easter can brighten our lives.

    So our reflection this morning is two-fold. First, where and how do I need the Divine Physician in my life right now? And second, invite him in and ask him to heal us.

  • Ash Wednesday

    Ash Wednesday

    Where do you see yourself in forty days?

    I’m sure many of us have had to answer some version of that annoying question when applying for a job. You know: “Where do you see yourself in five years? Ten years?” But I ask that question today because I think we have to decide what getting ashes on our foreheads today means for us. If it’s just to check a box, or avoid the question “I thought you were Catholic?” at work, or to prove to Mom that we made it to Church, then we’ve missed an opportunity. Ash Wednesday is the busiest day at any Catholic Church hands down: busier than Christmas, and busier than Easter. And it’s really good that we are here today to mark the beginning of Lent, but seriously, where do you see yourself in forty days?

    The hope is that today we get reminded that we are dust, and to dust we shall return; and warned that we need to repent and believe in the Gospel. Then we take those admonitions and unpack them for forty days by engaging in fasting, almsgiving, and prayer, so as to rise on Easter Morning, greeted by the Morning Star that never sets, a new creation that has died and risen with our Risen Lord. That’s where we need to see ourselves in forty days.

    They (whoever “they” are!) say that it takes 21 days to start a new habit. So in forty days, we should be able to really accomplish something important. So if we find ourselves right now looking for a better relationship with God, a better relationship with the people in our lives, or wanting to be happier, more positive people, then the traditional Lenten disciplines of fasting, almsgiving, and prayer, if we really engage them, can make a huge difference in our spiritual lives, and in our lives in general.

    Maybe this year we will fast from spending so much time on social media, or on our phones or tablets in general, and really take an interest in the people in our lives. Maybe we will fast from the negative influences in our lives, whether that be news or media in general, or relationships with people that drag us down. Maybe we will fast from negativity, and choose to look at people differently, asking God to give us the grace to see them as he does.

    In almsgiving, maybe we will take the time to really give of ourselves. Yes, we can write the check to help any number of charities, but maybe we can also make a meal or even just a dessert for a lonely neighbor or relative. Maybe we will give alms by making time with our family a priority. Or maybe we will even volunteer to mentor someone in need, or to assist in faith formation here at church.

    For prayer, maybe this isn’t the only time we do daily Mass during these forty days of Lent. Perhaps even just a day or two a week before work or whatever the day’s agenda may be. Or, we could visit the adoration chapel for fifteen minutes once or twice a week. Or, maybe we try a new devotion like a daily Rosary or reading a few paragraphs of the Gospel of Luke every day.

    Forty days of some combination of that can really affect our relationship with God and our relationships with the people in our lives in an amazingly positive way. And doing this, we don’t blow the trumpet and say, “Hey, look at what good things I’m doing!” No, we do it unassumingly and note with joy the changes it makes in our demeanor.

    I hope this Lent is incredibly powerful for every one of us; that it makes our Easter Morning all the more joyous; and that it changes us in ways that will make our lives better for years to come.

    Where do you see yourself in forty days?

  • Palm Sunday of the Passion of Our Lord

    Palm Sunday of the Passion of Our Lord

    Today’s readings

    Sometimes, when I take a step back in preparing for our Palm Sunday Mass, my head spins a little bit.  That’s because this is no ordinary celebration of Mass.  We have two Gospel readings: one at the beginning of Mass for the blessing of the palms, and one very long one in the normal spot in the Liturgy of the Word. And those two Gospel readings couldn’t be more different in tone!  The first one tells of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, and it seems so triumphant. The crowds welcomed him and paraded with him into the city.  But then we get to the Passion reading and everything changes in a heartbeat.

    I think if we had to sum up the Liturgy today with a contemporary quip, it might be, “Well, that escalated quickly!”  We go from “Hosanna!  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”  to “Crucify him! Crucify him!  Give us Barabbas!” just two chapters later! This, friends, really is the hour for which Jesus came.  The hour for him to lay down his life.

    It seems like things have escalated quickly, but really we know they didn’t.  All through the Gospel, Jesus has been getting under the skin of the religious establishment, calling out their weak and self-serving adherence to the Law, taking care of the real needs of people as they should have been, and showing people a way of life based not on legalism, but on caritas, love poured out in service to others.  That he will punctuate that caritas love at the end of the Gospel today is quite instructive.  The whole of the Gospel centers around laying down our lives for others.

    And, really, if we take a big picture view of the history of salvation, things haven’t escalated that quickly at all.  All through the scriptures, Old and New Testaments alike, people – we – have been missing the point.  The cycle of sin that spirals all through the scriptures has seen God send messages, through signs and prophets, of how things had gone wrong and what needed to be done.  And all through the scriptures, people have heeded the message only in lip service, or have outright murdered the prophets who brought the message.  And yet again, God sent new messages, and yet again, the people sinned.  We know that the sacrifice of Christ, God made man, was always God’s plan for salvation.  It has been incubating for generations, and now, finally, the hour has come.

    Honestly, though, we know things have continued to escalate.  Wars in Ukraine, Russia, Israel, and Gaza are decimating cities and killing thousands every day. The migrant crisis finds people coming to our nation with nothing, and being pawns in a great political argument, all while testing the ability of cities to care for them and take them in. Crime and terrorism abounds, and we find ourselves in the middle of an election cycle in which people use all these heartbreaking issues to advance their careers, their own agendas, and the coffers of their allies and supporters.  All of this almost causes Our Lord to fall a fourth time, crushed under the weight of the cross.  We certainly need a Simon of Cyrene to help us shoulder the burden of it all, and a Veronica to wipe the blood and sweat from Christ’s face once again.  People walk the Way of the Cross over and over, and the hour of Christ’s Passion seems to always be present.

    Who are we going to blame for this?  Whose fault is it that they crucified my Lord?  Is it the Jews, as many centuries of anti-Semitism would assert?  Was it the Romans, those foreign occupiers who sought only the advancement of their empire?  Was it the fickle crowds, content enough to marvel at Jesus when he fed the thousands, but abandoning him once his message was made clear?  Was it Peter, who couldn’t even keep his promise of standing by his friend for a few hours?  Was it the rest of the apostles, who scattered lest they be tacked up on a cross next to Jesus?  Was it Judas, who gave in to despair thinking he had it all wrong?  Was it the cowardly Herod and Pilate who were both manipulating the event in order to maintain their pathetic fiefdoms?  Who was it who put Jesus on that cross?  Even now, who do we blame for the death of our Lord?

    And the answer, as we well know, is that it is, and always was, me.  Because it’s my sins that led Jesus to the Way of the Cross.   I have been the selfish one.  I have been the one who has looked down on people who are different from me, using my privilege at their expense.  I have been the one that has withheld love and forgiveness and grace in so many different ways.  I have been comfortable with my sins and content to stay the way I am.  It’s my sins that betrayed my Jesus; it’s my sins that have kept me from friendship with God. 

    But as ugly as I have been, as much as I have nailed him to the cross, even so: he willingly came to this hour and gave his life that I might have life. 

    And you.

    He gave himself for us.

  • Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent

    Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent

    Today’s readings
    Mass for the school children.

    Have you ever thought that everyone in the whole world was against you? Sometimes it seems that way, for sure. We all go through times like that.  Of course, it’s not true; there are always people who believe in you.  But if you’ve ever felt like it was true, you’re not alone: we’ve all been there some time or another in our lives. 

    Maybe someone was telling lies about you and trying to get others to work against you, or maybe they were looking for any time you did the slightest thing wrong, or messed up in any way, so they could act all superior or get you in trouble. Or maybe they even sabotage you or tell stores about you behind your back.  It’s frustrating when that happens.  So since we’ve all been there, I think we might understand a little of how the prophet Jeremiah, King David, and Jesus may have felt in today’s readings and psalm.

    Jeremiah was one of the Old Testament prophets, and a prophet’s job is never easy. Nobody wants to hear what they don’t want to hear.  People don’t want to hear that they are wrong, and they don’t want others to tell them what to do. The prophets had to tell the people what God wanted and how God wanted them to live, and they didn’t find that welcome at all.  It can be difficult to stand up for what’s right.  So for Jeremiah, things are getting dangerous: people disliked what he was saying so much that they wanted him dead.  The same is true for Jesus in today’s Gospel reading.  Jesus now is rapidly approaching the cross; it’s almost the hour for him to give his life.

    And so the psalm today is kind of the prayer of both of them, and really all of those who are suffering at the hands of an enemy.  King David in the psalm finds that his enemies are pursuing him to the point of death, like the waters of the deep overwhelming a drowning man.

    But all of them find their refuge in God: God never leaves us alone in our troubles.  Jeremiah writes, “For he has rescued the life of the poor from the power of the wicked!”  King David takes consolation in the fact that “From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears.”  And for Jesus, well, his time was coming close, but it had not yet come.

    When we are provoked like they were, how do we respond?  Is our first thought to take refuge in God, or do we try to solve the problem on our own? Or maybe we even try to get back at those who are attacking us. Those last two options never ever work.  If we don’t turn to God, we will sooner or later find those waves overwhelming us, because there is always a limit to our own power, a limit to what we can do all by ourselves. 

    But God never expects us to do the right thing all alone.  He knows that it’s hard for us to stand up for what’s right, to do the right thing when everyone seems to be doing something else, to speak up for those who are struggling when everyone else is making fun of them.  God always expects us to do the right thing, of course: that’s what he made us for.  But he doesn’t expect us to do the right thing on our own.  He will give us the power to stand strong in the midst of trouble – we just have to ask.  If we do things on our own, we have no one to turn to when things go wrong or when things get tough.  But if we turn to God, even if things don’t improve on our own timetable, we will always find refuge and safety in our God: there will be strength to get through, and we will never be alone.

  • Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Lent

    Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Lent

    Today’s readings

    “Do you want to be well?”

    That had to be a jarring question to the man at the waters of Bethesda. I wonder if he was thinking, “Of course I want to be well! Why do you think I’ve been lying here so long?” But it’s an important question for him to answer: Jesus can’t heal someone who has become entrenched in his or her own illness to the point that they just accept it. But he tells Jesus his plight, and accepts the command to rise and walk, and with that he is healed.

    In these Lenten days, the Elect among us – those preparing for the Easter Sacraments of initiation – are lying at the waters of Bethesda. Those waters are the waters of Baptism, which will be stirred up at the Easter Vigil. They will be taken down to the waters by their sponsors, and they will be baptized into the faith. What a glorious night that will be!

    In these Lenten days, we find ourselves lying at the waters of our own Bethesda, too (Bethesda means “House of Mercy). We find ourselves sick with sin, and needing the waters of Baptism to be stirred up in our own lives so that we can be made well, so that we can rise and walk. We are more than half way through Lent, and so it is time that we reflect on our sin and answer Jesus’ question, “Do you want to be well?” Because he stands ready to stir up the waters and command us to rise and walk. This is the time for a good Lenten confession if we haven’t made one yet. This Sunday we will have 15 priests to hear confessions. Those waters will be plenty stirred up.

    So, do you want to be well?

  • The Second Sunday of Lent

    The Second Sunday of Lent

    Today’s readings

    What would you give up for love?

    That’s the question I want us to focus on today because I think it is, perhaps, the question of the spiritual life.  What is it that we are willing to give up for love?  And I’ll be honest: this set of readings gets me every time.  When I see what Abraham, Jesus, and ultimately God the Father would give up for love, it makes me repentant of the shoddy things I tend to hang on to.  But let’s bookmark that for a bit and get into the readings we have today.

    Today’s first reading puts poor Abraham in an awful position.  Remember, he and Sarah were childless well into their old age.  And it is only upon entering into relationship with God that that changes.  God gives them a son, along with a promise, that he would be the father of many nations.  It’s unbelievable. Think of anyone you know who has had to struggle with the pain of being childless.  And here God puts an end to that just when they have come to terms with the fact it was never going to happen. Everything changes for them, an old and childless couple.

    And so now put yourself in Abraham’s place.  After rejoicing in the son he never thought he’d have, God tells him: “Take your son Isaac, your only one, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah.  There you shall offer him up as a holocaust on a height that I will point out to you.”  It’s not a suggestion, it’s not an invitation, it’s an order.  Now, Abraham knows that it’s only because of the gift of God that he has Isaac to sacrifice in the first place.  But for those of you who are parents: think about it, what would you do?  How would you feel in that moment?  That boy is the answer to your life-long prayers, and now God wants him back.  Wow.

    The reading omits a chunk in the middle that is perhaps the most poignant part.  Abraham packs up and takes his son on a journey, travels with some servants, and at the end of it, he and Isaac haul the wood and the torch up the mountain.  Isaac asks him: “Here are the fire and the wood, but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?”  Can you even begin to imagine the anguish in poor Abraham’s heart?  And yet he responds in faith: “My son, God will provide the sheep for the burnt offering.”  Which, of course is absolutely true.  God had provided Isaac, who was intended to be the sheep.  God had, indeed, provided Isaac.  But Abraham couldn’t have known that God would intervene, couldn’t have imagined what God had in mind.

    Now, we could get caught up in the injustice here and call God to task for asking such a horrible thing in the first place.  Why would God test poor Abraham like this?  Why would he give him a son in his old age, only to take him away?   What purpose did that serve?  And who wants to worship a God who would do something like that?  But we have to know that the purpose of the story is to illustrate that God has salvation in mind; that he always intends the good for us.  Yes, God would provide the lamb.  It was never going to be Isaac; it’s not even the sheep caught up in the thicket – not really.  We know that the sheep for the burnt offering is none other than God’s own Son, his only one, whom he loves.  The story is ultimately about Jesus, and his death and resurrection are what’s really going on in today’s Liturgy of the Word.

    So let’s let that sink in for a minute.  No, of course we don’t want to worship a God who would be evil enough to give a couple the gift of a child in their old age and then demand that he be sacrificed.  But we certainly worship this God who, in his great love for us, sacrifices his Son, his only one, whom he loves.  That, friends, is our God.  That’s what all of this is all about.

    Now let’s get back to the thought I asked you to bookmark at the beginning of my homily today: Abraham trusted God and was willing to give up the thing he’d probably die for – his own son.  God asked, and he, anguished as he must have been, made the preparations and was ready to do it.  That’s what love of God meant to him.  So what are we willing to give so that we can demonstrate – to ourselves if to no one else – our trust in God’s ability to love us beyond all telling?  For Lent, we’ve given up chocolate, or sweets, or even negative thinking or swearing.  Maybe we’ve been successful, or perhaps have not done well with them, or maybe we have even given up giving up the things we gave up!  But we need to see in Abraham’s willingness that our sacrifices, however big or small they are, are important; they mean something.  So maybe now, still early in Lent, it’s time to take a second look at our Lenten sacrifices.  Can we go deeper?  What are we willing to give up to experience God’s love more fully?

    Jesus goes up a mountain in today’s readings too – and when he does, he sees that he is to become the sheep for the sacrifice – sooner rather than later.  That was the meaning of the Law and the prophets of old, symbolized by Moses and Elijah on the mountain.  But knowing that, and knowing what’s at stake, he does not hesitate for a moment to go down the mountain and soldier on to be that great sacrifice. He willingly gives his own life to be the sheep for the sacrifice, because leaving us in our sins was a price he was not willing to pay.  His life was the thing he was willing to give up for love; for love of us. There are a lot of things out there for us that seem good.  But the only supreme good is the life of heaven, and eternity with our God.  Think of the thing that means everything to you: are you willing to sacrifice that to gain heaven?  Are you willing to give everything for love of God?

    Because, for you, for me, God did.

    God did that for us.

  • The First Sunday of Lent

    The First Sunday of Lent

    Today’s readings

    “Repent and believe in the Gospel.”

    I think, in general, as a people, we are allergic to repentance.

    The year was 2012, and it was the first year that we used the revised translation of the Roman Missal.  On Ash Wednesday, as I do every year, I used both of the prescribed verses when applying ashes: “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return” and “Repent and believe in the Gospel.”  The latter of which is taken from the end of today’s Gospel reading.  I got two rather vivid complaints from people to whom I used that latter verse, which ran something along the lines of “why would you tell me to repent?”

    The systemic nature of this allergy to repentance is magnified by the fact that almost anything is permissible these days: aborting a baby at full term, having illicit relationships, lying in public office, inciting violence, mass shootings, rampant crime, and so many more.  These are all pervasive; they never go away, and every day they just get worse.

    On the other hand, repentance is almost discouraged by a cancel culture that refuses to forgive anyone for any mistake, intended or unintended.  No one is allowed a second chance, no one is ever encouraged to turn over a new leaf.  As the late Cardinal George once said, “contemporary culture permits everything and forgives nothing.” He was a wise observer of contemporary humanity.

    Nevertheless, Jesus is clear in our Gospel today: “Repent and believe in the Gospel.” Because our God is a God who encourages repentance. He wants everyone to come to salvation, but justice demands that salvation requires a heart ready to receive it; justice requires repentance.

    Repentance is easy, but it’s also incredibly hard.  It’s hard because we are of this society allergic to repentance. It’s hard because we believe everything is “okay for me.” It’s hard because we have been conditioned to look out for number one, to “be true to yourself,” to do what seems right to you. But there is such a thing as eternal Truth, which our society also does not recognize, and that Truth reminds us that some things are always wrong, and we must abandon the notion that some times everything is okay.  So repentance requires what the Greek language calls “metanoia,” which means literally turning around and going in the other direction, in this case, going toward the Truth, who is our God.

    So we have to apologize, we have to stop doing the wrong thing, and we have to turn back to God who is always waiting for us.  That’s repentance. That’s what justice demands, and that’s what salvation requires.

    I said repentance was easy, but also hard.  It’s easy because all we need to do is turn back to him. And we can do that by coming to confession and receiving the Lord’s forgiveness. We can do that in our prayer life by turning our thoughts and affections to him. One of my favorite ways to put myself into God’s presence is to pray the Jesus prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” It’s an ancient prayer of the Church, it’s a good act of contrition, and it’s a wonderful mantra to pray over and over in times of temptation, fear, or frustration. It’s a wonderful way to open ourselves up to repentance.

    Friends, those people who were mad at me in 2011 didn’t realize it, but we all need to repent. Even me; maybe even especially me. We all have times when we’re headed in the wrong direction. And on those times we need to turn around, to turn back to God, to repent, to confess our sins, and to accept the love and healing grace that our God offers so freely.

    If during Lent you do nothing else, please learn to accept the need for repentance. Society may forgive nothing, but our God forgives everything, if we turn back to him with all our heart, and that’s all he wants. Give God your heart this Lent and see what he does with it.

    Repent and believe in the Gospel.