Caritas Christi Urget Nos

Category: Prayer

  • Twenty-fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Twenty-fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    Ever since I can remember hearing this parable of the day laborers, it has rubbed me the wrong way.  Maybe it does that for you too, as you sit here having just had it proclaimed to you.  Yes, the landowner describes himself as “generous,” but it seems like he is only really generous to those who came in to work at 5:00, only to work an hour or so, and get paid the same as those who toiled all day long.  It all just seems so unfair.  Why work through the heat of the day and put forth our best efforts, if we’re going to get paid the same as those who have done nothing but stand around all day?  Those of us raised with the American work ethic just bristle at such crazy talk, don’t we?

    But when a Scripture passage rubs us the wrong way and makes us bristle, that’s really a good thing, because it’s usually an indicator that the Words have something important to say to us.

    What’s interesting is that this parable in some ways is pretty timeless.  It’s not like the concept of day laborers has come and gone; we still have them all over our world today.  In cities all throughout our country, men and women continue to stand around waiting for work.  They are, perhaps, undocumented immigrants, those who cannot find sustained work because they cannot provide a social security number.  This election year finds that issue an important one.  How do we protect our borders and uphold our laws and still provide safety for those who are in need?

    But whatever we may think about that particular issue, what we need to see is that the day laborer fills a particular need for handyman help and odd jobs, and helps those people to provide for their families.  But it is a precarious system.  The youngest and fittest among them will certainly find work early in the day – if there is work that day, but the more elderly among them might not get an offer that day at all.  And as much as we might feel justified in cajoling them for standing around doing nothing, we have to realize that they are really standing around worrying about whether they’ll be able to feed their families that day.  Would you rather work all day, or worry like that all day?

    And you don’t have to be a day laborer to have those kinds of worries in today’s economy.  Those at the bottom of the pay scale know with acute anxiety the need to be able to work every day.  Missing just one day can mean the difference between being able to feed their families, or not; or to be able to fill a needed prescription, or not; to be able to make rent, or not.  So before we judge day laborers and low paid workers, we have to ask ourselves if we’d be willing to accept their worries for even just one day.

    So think of all that anxiety and multiply it many times over, and you’ll understand the plight of the day laborer in Jesus’ day.  Poverty was severe, and about 95% of the people were desperately poor enough to be on the verge of starvation.  So those laborers standing around all day were quite literally worrying about whether they would feed their families that day.  For those still waiting for work at 5pm, the fact that no one had hired them could quite literally have been a death sentence.  What an incredibly extravagant gesture it was, then, for this landowner to have paid them for the whole day.  In that kind of poverty, a fraction of a day’s pay might have been too little to have met their needs.  But with the action of the landowner, they were given an incredible, wonderful gift.

    But lest we still bristle for those who worked all day long, let us be careful to note that not one of the workers was treated unfairly.  They were all given the usual daily wage.  That those who worked a partial day also received the full day’s wage was an act of generosity, but not an act of unfairness to the others.

    And maybe those full-day-working laborers should not have complained.  How strict an accounting were they really hoping to have from the landowner?  Had they worked their hardest all day long?  Maybe, maybe not.  Did they take an extra break, or slack off toward the end of the day?  Was the work that they accomplished of the highest possible quality?  We don’t know the answers to any of those questions, but the laborers and the landowner certainly would have.  And if their efforts were anything less than exemplary, maybe even their day’s wage was an act of generosity too.

    Many years ago now, I heard about the deathbed conversion of actor John Wayne.  I thought at the time, “Gee, that’s convenient.”  Here he may well have led a life of excess and who knows what all debauchery and only on his deathbed was he willing to form a relationship with God.  Here those of us disciples have been working hard at it all this time, and yet some can get it just at the last minute?  That makes me bristle with thoughts of unfairness.  But, as the prophet Isaiah tells us today, our thoughts are not God’s thoughts, and our ways are not God’s ways.

    The fact is, I don’t know what kind of life John Wayne led.  I haven’t walked a day in his boots.  I don’t know how long that deathbed conversion had been percolating in his mind or how much he had longed for it all through his life.  We disciples can be pretty inappropriately judgmental about those who don’t live the kind of life we think they should be, and that is just as off-base as the judgment of the earliest-hired day laborers in today’s parable.  The daily wage we are looking for is nothing less than salvation, and whether one receives that at baptism or on one’s deathbed, all the Church should rejoice that salvation was found at last.  Because that’s how God sees it.

    And maybe we don’t want to ask for too strict an accounting either.  Because we come here today with our sins heavy on our souls, knowing that our labor hasn’t always been of the highest quality and our efforts haven’t been continuously stellar.  We ought all of us to accept the gift of salvation when it is given, in this spirit that it comes to us, and not be concerned about when it finally comes to others.  As the Psalmist tells us today, “The Lord is near to all who call upon him” – whenever that call is made.  Today we are being called to accept and love and celebrate the generosity of our God.  And all of us more-or-less hard-working disciples are blessed to be able to celebrate that in the most generous way of all, by receiving the very Body and Blood of Jesus Christ our God to nourish us and sustain us on the journey.  Thanks be to God for his great generosity to us in every moment!

  • Friday of the Twenty-fourth Week of Ordinary Time

    Friday of the Twenty-fourth Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    Today we get a bit of a glimpse as to how Jesus’ day-to-day ministry worked.  We can see three things in particular that characterize how things happened.  First, he journeyed to proclaim the Good News.  He met people where they were, and even sought them out.  This shows us God’s relentless pursuit of the people he loves.

    Second, he brought people with him.  He travelled with the Twelve Apostles, some of the women he had cured of evil spirits and of illnesses, some particular women (Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Susanna), and “many others.”  All of these were drawn to Jesus for various reasons.  We can assume they had all been given some gift: healing, a call to ministry, recognition of their worth – and all of them had responded by wanting to be near him.  This models for us our response to God’s work in our lives.

    And finally, those travelling with him provided for his ministry out of their resources.  Some of the women were well-connected, especially Joanna, whose husband was a high official in the court of Herod Agrippa.  So she would have had resources to help with the ministry as well as leisure to follow Jesus.

    We can hardly visit this gospel reading, though, and not notice the meticulous mention of the women that were among his followers.  In a day where a woman’s participation in anything of a public nature would be totally frowned upon, Jesus reached out to women, and brought them into his ministry.  Certainly the Evangelist would never have mentioned it if it weren’t important to the Gospel itself.

    We come here today for Mass, aware that our God seeks us out in little and big ways every single day.  We too want to be close to him, and respond as did the Twelve, the women, and the “many others.”  Our desire for God and our yearning for forgiveness are themselves God’s gift to us.  Blessed are those who journey with Christ on the way.

  • Thursday of the Twenty-fourth Week of Ordinary Time

    Thursday of the Twenty-fourth Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    The ancient fathers of the church always taught that every day of our life is a preparation for death; that we should keep the dying of the Lord before us.  That’s a principle of the spiritual life that ought to still be relevant to us today.  This is not the same thing as merely saying “live every day as if it were your last.”  That kind of thinking would have us living kind of a hedonistic life, making everything all about us.  And that’s not what the fathers were advocating at all.

    Rather, they had in mind what is portrayed in our Gospel reading today.  The anointing of Jesus’ feet was certainly a preparation for his dying, that’s pretty obvious.  That’s the kind of oil she used, and everyone would have known that in Jesus’ day.  But her action was a preparation for her own death.  She came, knowing her sins, putting herself at the feet of Jesus, being a gift to him by her very presence.

    Because what Satan wants for us is to know our sins and be so ashamed of them that it keeps us from Jesus.  But what this woman models is the very opposite.  She approaches him burdened by her sins, and weeps at Jesus’ feet knowing her woundedness.  Jesus sees her openness, and that openness allows for Jesus to heal her to her very core.  She loves much, he loves much, and she is forgiven much.

    Which is what brings us here today, isn’t it?  We wounded ones come with love before our Jesus who loves us much, and forgives us everything if only we confess it.  And we receive the best gift of love there is, the Eucharist, his very body and blood, soul and divinity.  At the end of it all, may Jesus one day say to us as he did to the repentant woman, “Your faith has saved you, go in peace.”

  • Wednesday of the Twenty-third Week of Ordinary Time

    Wednesday of the Twenty-third Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    Luke’s treatment of the Beatitudes is a little different than Matthew’s. While Matthew lists the blessings, it is only Luke who lists the woes. Whether we are looking at the blessings or the woes, it is clear that God’s wisdom is different than ours. How many of us would choose to accept hunger, grief, hatred and insult? How many of us would turn down wealth, plenty, laughter and good feelings? Yet the Lord makes it clear to us that what we choose may not ultimately be what we get.

    It’s kind of like my grandmother used to say, when we were playing and laughing a lot, “that laughing is going to turn into crying.” Usually, she was right. And that’s true of all of our lives. Time has a way of changing our circumstances and life comes with its ebbs and flows. But what Jesus is worried about here is a little more serious than that. He is concerned about those who make comfort and good feelings and wealth their number one priority, those who are addicted to these things. If this is what becomes our god, then what use have we for God our maker?

    Today’s Gospel is a call to get it right. To put our priorities in order. It’s not just about us; we have to take up the cross and follow Christ. That might indeed mean some hardship, some hunger, grief, hatred and insult. We might have to put aside the wealth, plenty, laughter and good feelings for a time. As St. Paul says in our first reading, “the world in its present form is passing away.” We are not home yet; we are mere travelers on this earth. And so the sufferings of this present time are but temporary. Our real reward is in heaven, and we pray that we don’t miss it by striving here on earth for all the wrong things.

  • Thursday of the Twenty-second Week of Ordinary Time

    Thursday of the Twenty-second Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    You may have heard the saying, as I have, that “If you want to hear God laugh, just tell him your plans.” It’s so easy for us in our arrogance to think we have everything all figured out. And then maybe God taps us on the shoulder, or shouts into our ear, and sends us in another direction. We’ve all had that happen so many times in our lives, I am sure. And if we’re open to it, it can be a wonderful experience, but it can also be a wild ride at the least, and traumatic at the greatest. This is the experience Paul is getting at when he says in our first reading, “For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in the eyes of God.”

    Simon and his fellow fishermen must have been thinking that Jesus fell into the foolishness category when he hopped into their boat, after they had been working hard all night long (to no avail, mind you!), and said, “Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.” What foolishness! But something about Jesus made them follow his instructions, he tapped on their shoulders, shouted into their ears, and they did what he said.

    And not only were they rewarded with a great catch of fish, but they were also called to catch people for God’s reign. Talk about God laughing at your plans. They had only ever known fishing, and now they were evangelists, apostles and teachers. And we know how wild a ride it was for them. They never expected the danger that surrounded Jesus in his last days. They never expected to be holed up in an upper room trying to figure out what to do next. They never expected to be martyred, but all of that was what God had in mind for them. And all of it was filled with blessing.

    So what foolishness does God have planned for us today? How will he tap us on the shoulder or shout into our ear? Whatever it is, may he find us all ready to leave everything behind and follow him.

  • Twenty-second Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Twenty-second Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    When I was in high school, I went on our youth group’s senior retreat. On that retreat each of us seniors was given a paperback New Testament in which a verse had been highlighted. They were given out randomly, with trust that the Holy Spirit would speak to us in some way through that verse. That sure worked for me, and I’ll never forget the verse that I received. It was Romans 12:2, from today’s second reading: “Do not conform yourself to this age, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may know what is God’s will, what is good and pleasing and perfect.” I can’t tell you how often since that retreat I’ve gone back to that verse, praying for the transformation of my life and the renewal of my mind, because God’s will can sometimes be so hard for us to discern. But that is the great project of our lives, isn’t it?

    I think Jeremiah, in today’s first reading, expresses the exasperation we sometimes feel when we are trying to discern that will. Sometimes we get to the point where we’d just as soon chuck it all and pretend it just doesn’t matter. But if we do that, we can’t expect even a moment’s peace. Listen to the prophet’s words again:

    I say to myself, I will not mention him,
    I will speak in his name no more.
    But then it becomes like fire burning in my heart,
    imprisoned in my bones;
    I grow weary holding it in, I cannot endure it.

    We all of us have to come to the point where we realize that what we want to do in our lives doesn’t matter so much as what God wants us to do. Because that’s the only way we’ll ever find true peace with God and true peace with ourselves. We can try, as Jeremiah did, to hide from God’s will, holding back from what we really feel called to do. We can give in to the fear that keeps us from becoming what we were meant to be. We can try to live our lives as if God really doesn’t matter to us. But then, eventually, we will become weary of holding it in. And then we have two possible responses: either give in to God’s will, or give in to despair and disappointment and accept that unfulfilled potential is what we were meant for.

    Given that choice, I’ll pick doing Gods will, thank you very much! And in giving in to God’s will, we may well be duped, and yes, we may even have let ourselves be duped. Because God’s will is too strong for us, and we cannot overcome it. Just ask St. Augustine, whose feast we celebrated this past Thursday. He was well-off, intelligent, enjoying the pleasures of the world, and had no interest in the religion that his mother, St. Monica, lived. But eventually, through the prayers of his mother and the grace of God, Augustine realized he could not go on with the sham his life had become. In his famous Confessions, he writes of the beauty that he had missed by being so caught up in the things of this world:

    Late have I loved you,
    O Beauty ever ancient, ever new,
    late have I loved you!

    You were within me, but I was outside,
    and it was there that I searched for you.
    In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created.

    You were with me, but I was not with you.
    Created things kept me from you;
    yet if they had not been in you they would not have been at all.

    You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness.
    You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness.
    You breathed your fragrance on me;
    I drew in breath and now I pant for you.

    I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more.
    You touched me, and I burned for your peace.

    Jesus lays this all on the table for us in today’s Gospel. We have to stop, like Peter, thinking as people do and start thinking as God does. And when we do that, it’s not going to be pretty. We’re going to have to take up our cross and follow Jesus, which is surely going to mean some suffering, and definitely some sacrifice. But if we would save our lives, we have to be willing to lay them down, to give them up, to be duped by our God whose wisdom is so far beyond our own understanding.

    So how do you know if something is God’s will for you? This is the rubber-meets-the-road question for all of us in the life of discipleship. The art of discernment is something that takes a lifetime to perfect, and indeed may well be completely imperfect until that day when we meet our God in the heavenly kingdom. But until that great day, we disciples are called to practice. And so, here are some principles of discernment that work for me. They are adapted from various sources in the Church.

    First, pray. Trying to discern God’s will outside the context of a relationship with God makes no sense whatsoever. If you want to know what God’s will in your life is, then ask him. And be ready to listen. Take the time to listen. Find a way to be silent, whether it’s by sitting in front of the Blessed Sacrament or taking a long walk. Pray, and then be silent.

    Second, look to the saints. It is highly unlikely that God will call you to do something that hasn’t been modeled in the life of his holy ones. We were meant to look to the saints for inspiration, guidance and intercession – that’s why we have saints in the Church. So if a particular saint’s story has meaning for you, reflect on that, and see if God is calling you to something as a result of that.

    Third, look to the Scriptures and to the Church’s Liturgy. We are a people meant to be formed by the Word of God and by the Sacraments. We are called as Christian disciples to live the Gospel. We are all sent forth in peace to love and serve the Lord. Our experience of worship is meant to inspire us and to lead us in being Eucharist in the week ahead.

    Fourth, seek counsel from every wise person (Tobit 4:18a). Many people in our lives know us better than we know ourselves. Check with someone you trust spiritually to see if you’re on track or off base. Sometimes a pair of fresh eyes on our discernment can be so helpful.

    Finally, be willing to be duped by God. Jeremiah complained about it, but ultimately he was willing – he let himself be duped. And so maybe what we’re called to do is something we have no idea how it will turn out. That’s okay. We aren’t always given the big picture. But being part of that big picture can be the biggest thrill of our lives. And as Jeremiah tells us, we can’t silence it anyway, so we might as well give ourselves over to it.

    Clearly, our Liturgy today is calling us to open ourselves up to God’s plan in our lives, whatever that plan might be. We’re all being asked to move in some direction, closer to our God. It can be frustrating, even scary, to be searching in that direction. But the rewards are clear: “Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” May our quiet moments of the week ahead find us renewing our minds and searching for what is truly good and pleasing and perfect.

  • Tuesday of the Twenty-first Week of Ordinary Time

    Tuesday of the Twenty-first Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    Today we have readings urging us to pay attention. Paul tells the Thessalonians in our first reading today not to freak out if they hear about the second coming of Christ. Rather, they should be in the moment and live as they have been taught and formed in the Gospel which Paul preached to them. They need to pay attention to what is going on in front of them, to be attentive to what the Gospel calls them to do, and trust that if the Lord comes in glory, he will find them doing his will and gather them to himself. No need to scramble around in fear of what is to come.

    Jesus today scolds the scribes and Pharisees, as he often does, about paying more attention to the minute bits of the law than they do to really doing God’s will. They are so caught up in the ritual cleansing of bowls and cups that they cannot attend to the purification of their own hearts. And that, Jesus tells them, is a complete disaster. Their blindness will eventually leave them out of salvation’s reach.

    And so we too are called today to pay attention. We need to be attentive to the needs of those around us, to reach out to the oppressed and forgotten, to always be mindful of the poor – in short, we are to live the Gospel faithfully. We shouldn’t be caught up in details, nor should we be overly concerned about the Lord’s return. We can’t have our head in the clouds nor in the sand. We must be attentive to what’s in front of us, the opportunity to live the Gospel faithfully.

  • Twenty-first Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Twenty-first Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    Back when I was selling computers, they always taught us that one of the first good rules of sales was never to ask a question to which you didn’t already know the answer. I think teachers get taught that principle as well. I can’t help but think that Jesus’ question to the disciples in today’s Gospel falls under that heading. Because Jesus certainly knew who he was. But, as often happens in our interactions with Jesus, there’s something more going on. And to figure out what that something more is, all you have to do is go back to the Gospels the last couple of weeks and see in them that Jesus is thirsting for people’s faith. He was thirsting for faith from Peter when he called him to walk on the water. He was quenched by the faith of the Canaanite woman last week as she persisted in her request that Jesus heal her daughter. And now he thirsts for the disciples’ faith – and ours too – as he asks us the 64 thousand dollar question: “Who do you say that I am?”

    He actually starts with kind of a soft-ball question. “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they recount all the obvious and probably much-discussed options of the time. If there were bloggers and talk radio people and CNN in that first century, they too might have said “John the Baptist” or “Elijah” or “Jeremiah” or “one of the prophets.” So this is an easy question for the disciples to answer. But when he gets to the extra credit question, “But who do you say that I am?” there’s a lot more silence. And, as often happens with the disciples, it’s the impetuous Peter who blurts out the right answer, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Very good, Peter, you have been paying attention. So now you will be given the rather ominous blessing of being the rock on which Jesus will build his Church.

    And that blessing is ominous. Because it will require much of Peter. But to be honest, Peter’s answer to Jesus’ question will itself require much of Peter. You see, it’s not just a liturgical formula or a scriptural title or even a profession of faith in the formal sense that Jesus is looking for here. He is looking for something that goes quite a bit deeper, something that comes from the heart, something integrated into Peter’s life. He is looking for faith not just spoken but faith lived, and that’s why Peter’s answer is so dangerous. If he is really convinced that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God” then that conviction has to show itself in the way Peter lives. He can’t just believe that and keep it under his hat. If Jesus really is the One who is coming into the world, the Promised One of all generations, the salvation of the world, then Peter has to proclaim it from the rooftops. And some people are just not going to want to hear it.

    So I’m very sorry to tell you all this, but we have all gathered here on a very dangerous Sunday. We too, you know, are being asked today, “But who do you say that I am?” And Jesus isn’t asking us just to recite the Creed, the Profession of Faith. That’s too easy; we do it all the time. He doesn’t want to know what you learned at Bible Study or Small Christian Community. Those things are nice, but Jesus isn’t going for what’s in your head. Jesus is calling all of us today to dig deep, to really say what it is that we believe about him by the way that we act and the things that we do and the life that we live. It’s the dangerous question for us, too, because what we believe about Jesus has to show forth in action and not just word. Our life has to be a testament to our faith in God. And if we cannot answer that question out of our faith today, if we are not prepared to live the consequences of our belief, then we have a lot of thinking to do today.

    Because if we really believe – really believe – that Jesus is who he says he is, then we cannot just sit on the news either. Like Peter, we are going to have to proclaim it in word and deed. In our homes, in our workplaces, in our schools, in our communities – we must be certain that everyone knows that we are Christians and we’re proud of it. That doesn’t mean that we need to interject a faith lesson into every conversation or badger people with the Gospel. But it does mean that we have to live that Gospel. In St. Francis’s words, “Proclaim the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.” People absolutely need to be able to tell by looking at our lives that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God. If they can’t, then our faith is as tepid as the Pharisees’ and that’s nothing to be proud of, as we well know.

    Every part of our Liturgy has consequences for us believers. “The Body of Christ. Amen.” When we hear that proclamation and respond with our “Amen,” we are saying “yes, that’s what I believe.” And if we believe that, if we are then filled with the Body of Christ by receiving Holy Communion, then we have made a statement that has consequences. If we truly become what we receive, then how does that change the way that we work, the way that we interact with others? “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” “Thanks be to God.” If we accept that command, then what? What does it mean to love and serve the Lord? Does it mean that we just do some kind of ministry here at Mass? Absolutely not. The first word in the command is “Go” and that means we have to love and serve the Lord in our daily lives, in our business negotiations, in our community meetings, in our interactions with peers or the way that we mentor those who work for us.

    So if we really believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God, then our lives just became a whole lot more complicated. We may have to give up some of our habits and vices, we may have to make a concerted effort to be more aware of Christ in our daily lives, we may have to learn to treat other people as the Body of Christ. We may have to do all this preaching in a hostile environment, because sometimes people don’t want to hear the Good News. And this is dangerous, because if we really believe, then we have to preach anyway. Peter did, and it eventually led him to the cross. What will it require of us?

    So I don’t know just how dangerous this will be for me or for you. I’m not even sure how we will all answer the question right now. But one thing is for sure, all of us sitting here today have the same one-question test that Peter and the disciples had. Who do you say that the Son of Man is?