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  • Friday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time

    Friday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings
    Mass for the school children:

    New stuff can be fun. We like to have new clothes or new toys. Adults like to have a new car. But some new stuff can be scary. Going to a new school can be scary. Joining a new team or a new activity can be scary. But after we get used to the new school, the new team, the new group of people, usually things work out just fine. Newness can be fun, it’s most often a good thing, but sometimes it might make us worry.

    The scribes and the Pharisees in the Gospel reading were the religious leaders back in Jesus’ time. They were very concerned about their religious traditions. They were so concerned about them, that anytime they saw someone doing something different, they would call them out and correct them. And they weren’t always nice about it.

    In the Gospel reading, they were complaining that their disciples fasted, but the disciples of Jesus did not. And that was true, even the disciples of Saint John the Baptist used to fast all the time. But Jesus points out that people don’t fast at a wedding feast, or any other kind of feast as far as that goes. And Jesus is the bridegroom who has married the world, so to speak. He is the one who, when he is with us, it’s always a feast, always an occasion for joy. But of course, the scribes and Pharisees weren’t feeling so joyful about Jesus being around.

    Jesus goes on to tell a little parable about newness to make this point a little clearer. He says people don’t take new wine and put it into old wine skins. Back in Jesus’ day, wine didn’t come in bottles like it does now. They used wine skins, which were made of animal hide, usually from goats, to store and transport wine. But they always put new wine into new wine skins. Because if they put the new wine into old skins, the skins would often break because they were old, and the wine would be wasted. It just wouldn’t work.

    In the same way, Jesus was doing something new. It wasn’t the same as the old Jewish religion. Jesus was calling people to have concern for the poor and needy, to live good lives, and to love every person in our path. Things needed to change, and he came to change those things. Sins needed to be forgiven, and he came to give his life so that forgiveness could happen. All of this was new, and it was so different from what the scribes and Pharisees had ever known. They wanted what Jesus was doing and saying to fit into their old ideas. Kind of like putting new wine into old wine skins: it just didn’t work.

    The thing is, Jesus never stopped doing new things. He came to make us new through Baptism and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. He makes us new every time we participate in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. He gives us new life and new grace every time we receive the Eucharist. Jesus doesn’t want us to to waste away with old ideas and old dusty religion. He wants to make us new every single day so that we can go out and make the whole world new.

  • Thursday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary time

    Thursday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary time

    Today’s readings

    You may have heard the saying 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. Frankly, maybe we like it that way; it’s comfortable. But then maybe God taps us on the shoulder, or whispers into our ear, and sends us in another direction. We’ve all had that happen 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 possibly even traumatic. 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 was a little foolish 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, whispered 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 whisper into our ear? Whatever it is, may he find us all ready to leave everything behind and follow him.

  • Labor Day

    Labor Day

    Readings: Genesis 1:26-2:3 | Psalm 90 | 1 Thessalonians 4:1b-2, 9-12 | Matthew 6:31-34

    One of the things that I remember vividly about my childhood is how hard my parents worked. My Dad worked more than one job at a time for several years. And in his main job, he was with the company for well over forty years, finally retiring from the company he worked for since his late teens. My mother, too, worked outside the home, and did on a part-time basis until the pandemic started. They encouraged me to work as well, and the experience of the work I did in my late teens is something that I carried with me throughout my pre-seminary work years, and continue, really, to benefit from to this very day. And that’s how work is supposed to be: participation in God’s creation, enhancing our human dignity, bringing forth our gifts, and helping us to be better people. Work should also help us to sustain our lives and our families, and to provide for their needs, including health care and retirement. The Church has consistently and loudly taught these truths about work ever since Pope Leo XIII’s ground-breaking encyclical Rerum Novarum, published in 1891.

    Today, we’ve gathered to celebrate and bless human labor.  Human labor is a cornerstone of our society and our world, dating all the way back to the creation of the world, as today’s first reading shows us.  Indeed, our labor is a participation in the ongoing creation of the world, and is one of the strongest ways that we can be in communion with our Creator God.  We know that, at the completion of the creation of the world and everything in it, God sanctified the whole of it through rest.  That’s an important point that I think we maybe don’t get the way we should.

    Today is an opportunity to take a step back and look at our working and our resting.  We know that we don’t get enough rest.  We are sleep deprived, we take working vacations, we very often don’t take all the vacation we’re allotted, and some don’t take a vacation at all.  Even our children are so over-scheduled that they are sleep deprived as they go from one activity to the next, day after day.  And so our lives are out of balance and I think, very often, we don’t do our best work when we’re working.
    Jesus tells us in today’s Gospel that this kind of thing is just crazy.  Worrying about work isn’t going to add a single moment to our lifespan.  In fact, it will more likely reduce them.  We are told very clearly: “Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself.  Sufficient for a day is its own evil.”  By “evil” here, Jesus doesn’t mean something sinister and dark, but just the daily worries and misfortunes that we deal with all the time.

    We are certainly required to work hard and always give the best that we have to our employers or employees and coworkers.  That’s a matter of justice.  We are also required to provide for our families and maintain a home for our loved ones.  That’s a matter or charity.  Work is sacred and always has been, because, as the Genesis reading today shows us, work was instituted by God who told us to fill the earth and subdue it, having dominion over every living thing.  We work because it is a sharing in what we were created for, the very imitation of God. But there is also that matter of balance.  And we do have to step back and realize that God did indeed sanctify the whole of creation by blessing it with that seventh day, with that day of rest.  And so we do our spiritual lives no favors when we ignore the commandment to observe the Sabbath through rest and worship.  So much of our lives is consumed in labor; may we never fail to sanctify that labor by observing rest and worship.
    I saw a social media post that said something to the effect that while you’re all playing and having barbecues on Labor Day, remember it’s not about that. It’s about the people that fought to create safer workplaces, fair wages, health care and other benefits. I mean, it’s a point well-taken, but I don’t think we have to be the party pooper and insist that parties and gatherings today are inappropriate. Actually, for those who are overworked and over-scheduled, we might need this day more than ever.

    Labor Day is in fact a wonderful time to step back and look at the meaning of work. Labor Day reminds us that we don’t have permission to write off human labor as some kind of necessary evil or a commodity to be bought and sold. We are reminded that the economy exists for the good of people, not the other way around. We must truly venerate all labor, that of our own efforts as well as that of others. We must vigorously defend the rights and dignity of workers, particularly of the poor and marginalized. We must always offer all of this back to our God who created us to be co-creators with him. And we must rest. May we pray with the Psalmist this day and every day, “Lord give success to the work of our hands!”

  • The Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

    The Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    So often, when someone thanks us for something, we might say, “It’s the least I could do.” As if it were praiseworthy. Sometimes we want to do as little as possible, and have others feeling good about it.

    Well, I think it’s that kind of attitude that is behind today’s Liturgy of the Word. Certain things are expected of believers, and over the course of history, people have tried to get away with doing as few of those things as they absolutely had to do. The first reading sets the stage: Moses places the law before the people and tells them that they are a great nation, because they have a God so close to them, and who loves them enough to give them the whole law that they have received.

    Now the whole law is more than we might think. Perhaps when we hear that, we think of the Ten Commandments, to which we also are bound in our discipleship. But for the Jewish community back then, there were a total of six hundred thirteen laws and precepts that made up the law! Because of that, there was always this constant discussion over which of the laws was most important, and often people would be concerned more about a tiny little precept than about the whole big picture that God was trying to accomplish.

    This is the attitude Jesus came to address with the Gospel. He wanted the people to get it right. He wanted them to have concern for people more than for semantics in the law. He wanted them to love as God loves, because if we do that, we’ll be keeping the law anyway. But people didn’t always accept that teaching. If they did, Jesus wouldn’t have had to go to the Cross, and there would have been no need to preach the Gospel.

    So in today’s Gospel reading, Jesus makes a major correction. There was a law of purifying vessels before festivals, which is not unlike the way the priest washes his hands before the Eucharistic Prayer or the way that the vessels for Mass are purified after Communion. But somewhere along the way, the precept got mangled, and everyone was bound to scrupulously wash themselves and every vessel they owned before a feast. And Jesus chastises them for having more concern about a human tradition than about the real intent of the law.

    The real intent of the law was obviously something way more important, way more personal. The real intent of that purification was the purification of our hearts. Jesus gives a rather horrifying list of sins at the end of the Gospel reading and notes that these are the things that defile; not some dirt on the outside of a cup or hands that had not been scrupulously cleaned. If we want to really purify ourselves for the festival, which is to say the Eucharist, then we have to be cleansed of our sins. That’s why we have the Sacrament of Penance, right?

    Saint James, in the second reading, picks up on the theme. If we really want to be thought to be wise in regard to keeping the law, then we have to keep ourselves unstained by the world, which would be the same thing as Jesus was saying; but also to care for those in need, a precept with which Jesus would certainly not disagree! Indeed, that’s what was really at stake in the Gospel reading: people were more concerned about the minutiae of the Law than they were for securing justice for all God’s people.

    The thing is, we are hearers of the Word. We have experienced the love of our Lord in so many ways. Everything that we have is a gift to us. We have to be wise in regard to all that, and to be certain that we keep the whole of the law. Not just those little minutiae, but the very spirit of the law, the law of love which binds all disciples and all people of good will. Because when we lose sight of that, the whole Church can go off the rails. And we have certainly seen the rotten fruit of that in our recent past.

    So our reflection in these days has to be on where and how we need to realign ourselves with the Law of love and resolve to live it more faithfully. Because, as the Psalmist says today, it is they who do justice who will live in the presence of the Lord. And that’s just where we all want to be.

  • The Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

    The Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    “So what?” I content that that is one of the most important questions in life, certainly in our spiritual life. Because after we have all taken time to absorb the information around us, after we have learned all that we have been taught, we have to decide what, if anything, that information and teaching mean for us as human beings. What is the impact of this information on our lives? What difference does it make to have come to know this? How will this experience change my life? So what?

    I mention that because I think today’s Liturgy of the Word gives us a “So what?” moment today. As you know, these past several weeks, we have been reflecting on the “Bread of Life Discourse” as presented in chapter six of the Gospel of John. It all began five weeks ago with Saint John’s telling of the feeding of the multitudes: how thousands of people were fed with just five loaves of bread and two fish. It was a great miracle of abundance: indeed, the leftovers were even more food than they started with: twelve baskets intended to feed those who couldn’t make it to the banquet, those who hungered throughout the whole world.

    Ever since that, in these last three weeks, Jesus has been unpacking the meaning of that miracle for the crowd. They wanted more food, but he wanted to feed them in much more important ways, in ways that touched the deepest hungers of their lives, in ways that could lead them to the eternal banquet of the Lord where no one would ever hunger or thirst again. He made a bold claim: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.” (John 6:58) And now, the crowds grapple with that information.

    Some of them are offended by the notion that he, the carpenter’s son, the one they have known and whose family they have seen, could ever be anything eternal. How on earth could this common man, this one who is one of them, be the Son of God, the Bread of Life, the answer to all their eternal questions? Others are disgusted that the answer to these eternal questions involved eating his flesh and drinking his blood. How horrible that he would even suggest such a cannibalistic approach to eternal life! And in today’s passage, we see the impact of all that: some of them leave and return to their former way of life. Those who walked away weren’t just hangers-on or spectators – they were among his disciples. And then Jesus asks the Twelve – the Apostles – the question of all questions: “Do you also want to leave?” He might as well have said to them: “So what?”

    And, as usual, it’s Saint Peter who expresses the faith of these twelve men: “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” For them, at least, the “So what?” moment had led them to recognize something deeper in this miracle of feeding and in the words of this uncommon common man, and that something was the possibility of an eternity, which would never be possible without Jesus. Of course, they couldn’t have known the full meaning of that statement of faith, or the cost of it, but they would certainly see it all unfold in the death and resurrection of Christ, which would solidify their faith: well, for all but one of them.

    For me, the prayer of Saint Peter: “Master to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” has played a particularly important role. It’s come up more than once in my journey of faith. I remember as a young adult, before I went to seminary, having a crisis in my own faith. Even though I was always going to Mass, for a time I had also been attending Willow Creek – the big megachurch up in Barrington – with my friends. The music was nice and the sermons sounded good. But along the way my pastor, Father Mike O’Keefe, of blessed memory, called me in and had a “come to Jesus” with me. It was irritating at the time, but now I couldn’t be more grateful. I remember he told me, “Patrick, I know you would never be able to go to the chapel and stand in front of the Tabernacle and say that Jesus wasn’t there.” I took a while to think about that, and one night when I went to Willow Creek they were having their monthly communion. They passed around bread and grape juice and I realized that Father Mike was right: Jesus was in the Tabernacle, not there at Willow Creek, and that I would never be able to live without the Sacraments of the Church. In retrospect, that moment was pivotal in my vocational call. Father Mike’s fatherly pastoring of me and gentle rebuke helped me to see that I couldn’t leave the Catholic Church: “Master to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

    A few years later, when I was in seminary, that prayer became important again. I started seminary in fall of 2001, and in the spring of that year, the clergy sexual abuse scandals broke open. Half of my class left seminary that year, and by the end of my time at Mundelein the 23 of us who started together dwindled to just eight of us who graduated. Plenty of times in those five years, I wondered if I should leave too. Why would I want to get involved in the priesthood at this moment in our Church’s history – this painful moment? As I prayed about it over and over, I kept getting the same answer, over and over: “Master to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

    In these days, during our nation’s Eucharistic Revival, following the Eucharistic Congress in Indianapolis this summer, we continue the revival with a view toward mission. And every one of us plays a part in that. Our mission is to reach out to those who don’t know how much Jesus loves them, or at least don’t give it a lot of thought. The ones who should be sitting next to us at Mass right now. Whether they are our loved ones, or people we come into contact with in our communities, schools, or workplaces, they need to know that Jesus desires to feed them too. And maybe the only way they will see Jesus is in you and me. We have to keep the door open in relationship with them, so that they will see in the way that we love them, that Jesus’ love for us is very real and very zealous. We need them to see our faith in such a way that the “so what?” that they ask means something like, “I’d like to have that faith too.”

    Witness to the faith by your love. Live the Gospel in everything you do. Keep the door open to relationship with the people in your lives. Gently guide them to Jesus and the Church. Those are the things that people of mission do. Those are the things Eucharistic people do. The answer to “so what?” for us is very clear: So go, be people of mission. Go, love people into the Kingdom. Go, and announce the Gospel of the Lord.

  • Friday of the Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time

    Friday of the Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    You know, I really don’t think we depend on the Holy Spirit as much as we should. I mean, the Spirit is one of the Persons of the Holy Trinity and has all power and authority as God. Yet, I think, we often shelve the Holy Spirit after Confirmation and maybe dust him off every Pentecost. Which is sad, because, as we know, the Holy Spirit is a gift Who proceeds from the Father and the Son, a gift given to each of us at our Baptism and Confirmation, so that we might have the grace we need to live our lives of faith.

    We also believe that the Holy Spirit has spoken through the prophets, like Ezekiel, from whom we have been hearing in the first reading the past week or so. He is preaching to a people whose piety has dried up and who have mostly turned away from God. But even that dryness is no match for the Holy Spirit, who can speak to their dry bones and bring them to life and vitality.

    I think that’s good news for us, because we all go through times when our spiritual lives are a little like those dry bones. Times when we seem to be going through the motions in prayer, not sure if it’s having any effect on those for whom we are praying, or even on us ourselves. Maybe for one reason or another, we have gotten off the path and our spiritual lives have been left behind. Whatever it is that causes the dryness, it seems like most of us have that issue at one point or another.

    So it’s important to remember that the Holy Spirit is our Advocate in those times (and really all through our lives). When we feel like we are spiritually spinning our wheels, we need to turn to the Spirit and call on the Spirit’s breath of life. It is in the Holy Spirit that the Psalmist sings:

    Let them give thanks to the LORD for his mercy
    and his wondrous deeds to the children of men,
    Because he satisfied the longing soul
    and filled the hungry soul with good things.

  • Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, Abbot and Doctor of the Church

    Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, Abbot and Doctor of the Church

    Today’s readings

    Learning to follow the path of perfection is the most important goal of the spiritual life. How do we get our relationship with God right so that we can live with him forever in heaven? That was certainly the goal of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, whose feast we celebrate today.

    In the year 1111, at the age of 20, Bernard left his home to join the monastic community of Citeaux. His five brothers, two uncles and around 30 of his friends followed him into the monastery. Within four years a that monastic community, which had been dying, had recovered enough vitality to establish a new house in the nearby valley of Wormwoods, with Bernard as abbot. The zealous young man was quite demanding, particularly on himself. A minor health problem, though, taught him to be more patient and understanding. The valley was soon renamed Clairvaux, the valley of light.

    Bernard’s strong support of Rome was well known; in fact it was Bernard who intervened in a full-blown schism and settled it in favor of the Roman pontiff against the antipope. The Holy See then prevailed on Bernard to preach the Second Crusade throughout Europe. His eloquence was so overwhelming that a great army was assembled and the success of the crusade seemed assured. The ideals of the men and their leaders, however, were not as pure as those of Abbot Bernard, and the project ended as a complete military and moral disaster. Bernard felt responsible in some way for the degenerative effects of the crusade. This heavy burden possibly hastened his death, which came on August 20, 1153.

    In our Gospel reading today, the disciples are a little dismayed at Jesus’ answer to the rich young man in yesterday’s Gospel reading and they ask, “Who then can be saved?” The answer, basically, is that if eternal life is our goal, we have to let go of everything that holds us back from that. Saint Bernard preached that spiritual principle and gave his life to it. One day, we hope that our striving for perfection will lead us to eternal life, the goal of all our lives.

  • Monday in the Twentieth Week of Ordinary Time

    Monday in the Twentieth Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    A friend of mine told me that a wise old nun once taught him, “Work like everything depends on you, but pray like everything depends on God.”  It’s good advice, because everything, of course, does depend on God, but God expects us to work in cooperation with him, so that his will be done.  But it’s certainly a hard line to walk.  Once we get to working, we almost always get full of ourselves and think everything will fall apart if we don’t take care of it.  I know I find it hard to pack up and go on vacation or take time off unless I know I’ve got everything in order, and then I still worry about what comes up in the meantime.

    Today’s readings remind us of the danger of crossing that line and forgetting that God is in charge.  The rich young man in today’s gospel reading discovers that following the rules is only just a good start; to really gain heaven you must be willing to let go of the fading riches of this world.  The people Israel in today’s first reading have grasped on to the uncertain security of alliances with this world’s powers and have let go of their belief in God, and Ezekiel prophecies that would come back to haunt them.  Holding on to the things of this world will never get us anywhere; worrying about what God is doing is unproductive; we will never find ultimate security in alliances with the powers of this world.  To truly gain heaven, we have to let go and hold on to our God, whose riches never fade and whose power is never outmatched.

    The Psalmist gives us good advice today.  Do not forget the God who gave you birth.  He is in control; we are not.  God is God, and we are not.

  • Saturday of the Nineteenth Week of Ordinary Time

    Saturday of the Nineteenth Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    “Return and live!”

    This is very prophetic advice from Ezekiel this morning. We have been reading from him in the first reading throughout this week. He was preaching to a nation that was steeped in sin, and whose sinfulness was passed on from previous generations. But unlike the punishments of old, where God punished those who sinned for many generations, Ezekiel proclaimed that God was going to do something new. He was going to punish only those who did wrong, and bless those who did right. If the son sinned, it was not the father’s fault, and if the mother sinned, it was not the daughter who would pay the price.

    We might call that “personal responsibility,” a notion that doesn’t get as much adherence these days as it ought to. Now if the son sins, the parents sue the person who punished the son for it. Nothing is anyone’s fault; no one has to step up and take responsibility for what they’ve done. Or at least it sure seems that way. Ezekiel would take us all to task for that philosophy.

    Jesus says that the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to children. We talked about that earlier this week, too. Children are fit for heaven because they are completely dependent on those who care for them. We have to depend on God in that same way, if we wish to get to heaven. That is the truth of the Gospel.

    Our God is Truth, and we should live that truth every day of our lives. So if we’ve wandered from that, Ezekiel has the remedy today: “Return and live!”, Jesus would add, become like children and live forever in heaven.

  • Friday of the Nineteenth Week of Ordinary Time

    Friday of the Nineteenth Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    God never forgets how much he loves us. If this weren’t so, I don’t think any of us would be in existence. God loves us into life and loves us through our life and one day, if we let him, will love us into eternal life. The people of Israel had to know this better than anyone. Ezekiel today reminds them that God loved them enough that he would remember the covenant he had made with them, the covenant that they had broken many times, and that he would pardon them for all they had done. Because he loved them.

    The question the Pharisees asked Jesus in the Gospel today had nothing to do with love, which is odd because it was a question about marriage. Or, actually, the converse of marriage: divorce. They were asking not because they wanted to know about how to love better in their relationships, but rather because they were trying to trick Jesus into some Moses-bashing. But Jesus has none of that, reminding them of the indissolubility of love.

    Many things can be forgotten. God forgets things all the time – namely, our sins. But love can never be forgotten. God never forgets how much he loves us, and we dare not forget how much we love him, and because we love him, how much we love one another. That love may require all kinds of forgetting: forgetting past hurts, forgetting resentments, forgetting what we think we deserve.

    May we all forget what we have to forget, so that love is the only thing we can remember, and may we all go together, one day, to eternal life.