Caritas Christi Urget Nos

Tag: eternal life

  • The Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    The Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    I’m speaking at all the Masses this weekend, and I’m sure you’re thinking: here comes the money talk. Well, yes, that’s true, but I’m really speaking to you all out of a sense of gratitude: more about that in a minute. But I’m not even just talking to you about money today, because quite honestly, I think our Lord is asking for a whole lot more. Just reflect on today’s gospel reading: Jesus wasn’t as interested in the rich young man’s money as he was in his heart and soul. And he asked for that in exchange for something much more valuable than anything we or the rich young man possess: eternal life. That, after all, was what the rich young man wanted, right? I mean, he asks Jesus at the beginning of the Gospel reading what he has to do to inherit it. And it’s actually a good question. I don’t know if it’s because we take salvation for granted or if we can’t really see past the next big thing happening in our crazy lives, but I sometimes think we’re not as zealous about inheriting eternal life as we should be. So we could all – myself included, by the way – learn a little something from the rich young man’s question.

    So today is about going all-in for the Kingdom of God, and frankly, trusting that God will take care of us as we give everything we can – our time, talent, treasure – even our hearts, for the Kingdom. That was the stumbling block for the rich young man. He wanted to be able to check the boxes and know he would receive eternity. But it doesn’t work that way, because eternity is a lot, the Kingdom is big, and if we are still holding on to what makes us feel comfortable, we can’t receive what God wants to give us. Knowing that we are stuck in the world and what paltry gifts it offers just makes us walk away sad, because the world can’t give us eternity.

    And, as a parish, I think we have a sense of that. We know that there is more to life than just our possessions and what we own. I really believe our parish family strongly embraces our mission to worship God and celebrate the sacraments, to teach the faith to people of all ages and stages of life, and to care for those in our community who are in need in any way. I’m grateful because every day I get out of bed and feel blessed that I can be the pastor of such a vibrant community who depends on what we do here and thinks it is important enough to live it and witness about it to others.

    Because of your generosity, we have been able to renovate all three major worship spaces on our campus over the last few years: our Adoration Chapel, Cana Hall, and, just this past summer, this beautiful church. Because of your generosity, we are able to form young people in the faith through our parish school and our faith formation program, even if they are unable to afford it on their own. Because of your generosity, we have been able to support those in need through our giving tree, our support of the Plainfield Interfaith Food Pantry and our micro pantry ministry, and our wonderful Saint Vincent de Paul Society.

    But also, because of your prayers and faith, we have brought several couples into sacramental marriages through our Marriage Validation program. Because of your prayers and faith, people are coming into the Church or back to the Church in droves: just ask our faith formation department – they have had to revamp their operations over the last few years so that we can meet people where they are. Because of your faith, our Make a Difference Day has been adopted by the diocese as a model of how parishes can be of service to their communities.

    Every single day in this parish, people receive visits when they are home-bound or confined to nursing homes. People tell me all the time how grateful they are to us for visiting their relatives in this way. Every single day in this parish, people come here to pray and spend time with Jesus, and feel welcome here because we have provided prayerful space for them to worship and reflect. Every single day in this parish, the word is proclaimed, the sacraments are celebrated, and the Lord gives himself to our community in this sacred place.

    All of this happens, brothers and sisters, because you all come together and make it happen. You have supported us with your time and talent: we have the most amazing volunteers of any parish I’ve ever had the privilege of serving. Every day I thank God for how much our volunteers care for our parish and take care of their pastor! This happens because you are generous. You support our parish and our mission to reach out to the needy in so many beautiful ways. I cannot thank you and God enough for the grace I see and receive every single day.

    But there is so much more to do, and I ask that each of you discern how you can help us to meet our increased budget needs through your offertory support. While we all have different resources to draw from and commitments to fulfill, we can each give something in support of our parish family. Today, we are rolling out our parish giving program based on today’s gospel message: “Living as Faithful Disciples: Come, Follow Me!” This week you should receive our brochure and commitment card in the mail. You can also find those resources on our parish website, smip.org. I am asking you to take time this week to read the brochure and reflect on your commitment and support of our parish.

    Next weekend, we will have our Commitment Weekend at all the Masses, and you will hear from parishioners about their experience in or with our parish ministries. I have heard some of their stories, and I am excited for you to hear them. This is an important event for our parish, and I ask that you bring back your commitment card to support our parish ministries in whatever way you can. If you are currently giving, I ask you to review that and see if you can do more. If you are not currently giving, I invite you to join us in our mission to worship, teach, and witness in the name of Jesus.

    Please know that whatever you can do will help us to continue the mission, and will be greatly appreciated. I also ask that you please pray for the success of our giving program. Next weekend, I think we will be able to make great things happen to secure the mission of our parish for generations to come. Thank you for everything you do for our parish, and for your generous hearts and spirits. Please know of my prayers for you each day. We beg God, with the Psalmist today, to prosper the work of our hands for us! Prosper the work of our hands!

  • The Thirty-second Sunday of Ordinary Time

    The Thirty-second Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    The readings in these last days of the church year can be confusing, and sometimes even scary.  But they have an important job to do in terms of our spiritual lives.  They very often challenge our notions of what the faith really teaches and to what we are called in the preaching of the Gospel.  We want to believe in Jesus according to our own likeness, instead of allowing ourselves to be recreated according to his likeness.  And that’s where we run off the rails and drift away from a vibrant and active faith.

    As of today we have just two weeks left in the Church year, and it’s time for us to take stock of our lives and get things in order.  And we have one of those occasions when there seems to be a pretty odd parable in the Gospel reading.  It’s a story that challenges our notion of who Jesus is and what he was about – it almost seems in this story that he’s being “un-Jesus-like” in the story.  But hang on to that idea that for a second, because I think it will become clear what’s really going on as we unravel the story.  I always maintain that when a Scripture gets us riled up, then God is trying to tell us something important, and I definitely think that’s what’s going on here.

    So, first, we have to understand the details of the parable.  This probably doesn’t sound like any wedding to which you have ever been.  Wedding customs in the first century Middle East were a little different than those we know today.  The wedding was a rather drawn-out affair, beginning with the betrothal.  After that, the couple was basically married, but would not live together until the sometimes-complex negotiations regarding the dowry were complete.  When that was done, the bridegroom would journey to the bride’s house and bring her to his own house.  Then there would be a splendid feast that would go on for several days, complete with feasting and abundant wine and all kinds of festivity.

    So the parable we have in today’s Gospel puts us in the moment of time just as the negotiations are complete and they are expecting the bridegroom to go to the bride’s house.   The virgins are there ready to begin the great feast, but the bridegroom is delayed a bit, and they all fall asleep.  However, that is not the problem.  The problem is that half of them were unprepared.

    And here I think is the point that gets us riled up a bit.  I think we bristle at the whole notion of the wise virgins’ refusal to share their oil with the foolish.  Jesus was always for sharing and charity, so what’s the deal here?  Well, since we know Jesus regularly encourages kindness to others, I think we can safely conclude that is not the point of the parable and move on.  The point of the parable then, may well be the oil itself.  What kind of oil is he really talking about?  Of what is this oil symbolic?

    The Church Fathers help us a bit there.  They talk about the oil as the oil of salvation.  This would be an oil that can only be had in relationship with Jesus.  It’s an oil that can’t be begged, borrowed, stolen or bought at an all-night Walgreens.  We fill the flasks of our lives with that oil through daily prayer, devotion, the sacraments, and a life-long relationship with Jesus Christ, our Savior.  So the foolish virgins were looking for oil too late — too late not just because it is midnight, but too late because they should have been filling their flasks with this oil all along.  It’s not the wise virgins’ fault they did not share: indeed this is an oil that cannot be shared, any more than one could live another’s life for that person.

    What astounds me is that five of these virgins showed up unprepared.  We may not be familiar with first-century Middle Eastern wedding customs, but they certainly were.  So they would have known the wedding would go on for some days.  How is it, then, that they forgot to bring extra oil?  Even if the bridegroom had not been delayed, they certainly would have needed it!  What was so important to them that they forgot to attend to the most basic part of their job in preparation for the wedding banquet?  It would be like the maid of honor in a wedding today forgetting to plan a wedding shower – unthinkable!

    Just so, we certainly have nothing more important to do than to show up at the wedding feast of heaven with our flasks filled with the oil of salvation.  No other concern should distract us for our most basic job on earth, which is preparing for our life in heaven.  We must not be deterred from prayer, devotion, good works of charity, fasting, and zealous reception of the sacraments lest we hear those awful words the bridegroom spoke to the foolish virgins: “Amen, I say to you, I do not know you.”

    When we get to the feast, if our flasks are not full, it is already too late.  The last Sunday of the Church year is two weeks from today.  So this is a very good time to take a look back and see how well we have filled our flasks in the last year.  Have we been zealous to attend to our spiritual lives?  Have we been careful to be sure we have received the Sacrament of Penance on a regular basis?  Do we attend Mass every Sunday and Holy Day of Obligation, regardless of what else is going on in our lives, regardless if we are tired and need a rest, regardless of anything that might distract us?  Beyond the sacraments, do we take time to reflect on our relationship with God and try our best to live our lives as we have been called?  Have we even thought about what is the purpose of our lives right now?  Are we, at this point in life’s journey, walking with our Lord through good times and bad?  Or have we veered off the path, not even concerned about having the oil of salvation?  Have we been content with oil that does not burn brightly and which runs out just when we need it?

    If that’s where we have found ourselves this year, then we have some work to do in the coming weeks.  As we wind up this year and begin the next, we need to steadfastly resolve to fill our flasks to overflowing with the oil of salvation in the year ahead.  The only way we can do that is by zealously seeking our God, praying the prayer of the Psalmist:

    O God, you are my God whom I seek;
    for you my flesh pines and my soul thirsts
    like the earth, parched, lifeless and without water.

  • The Fourteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    The Fourteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    You are not in the flesh;
    on the contrary, you are in the spirit…

    Saint Paul’s letter to the Romans is really a masterpiece of Christian doctrine and discipleship.  If you haven’t read it in a while, or ever, I think it’s good summer reading.  That reading will give you a vast array of tools to grow in your faith and discipleship during the rest of this liturgical year and the one to come. 

    Today’s second reading takes a portion of this letter to consider the idea of what the Holy Spirit does in our lives.  I think we Catholics don’t often think enough about the Holy Spirit.  Receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit when we receive the sacrament of Confirmation, we have mighty power, and that power, sadly, remains untapped in many of us.  The saints are people who have lived according to the Holy Spirit’s power in their lives, and chief among them, of course, is the Blessed Virgin Mary, who was so filled with the Holy Spirit that she was able to lay down her own life to give birth to Our Savior, and to become the queen of apostles.  Saints are people who are definitely in heaven, and they get there, friends, not on their own merits, but by relying on and living with the Holy Spirit.

    Saint Paul is really clear today: we are not in the flesh, we are in the spirit.  So we cannot live stuck in our fleshly existence.  He goes on to say, “For if you live according to the flesh, you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.”  And the life he’s talking about, friends, is the great gift of eternal life for which we were all created.  But the thing about that is that we sometimes think, well, I can live by the flesh now, because that eternal life thing is far off in the future.  Not so fast.  The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand, now, as our Lord tells us over and over in the Gospels.  So if we want life in the kingdom, life forever, eternal life, we have to start living it now, living by the Spirit now.  There is no other way.

    So, as Saint Paul tells us, we have to put to death the deeds of the body, the works of the flesh.  So this, dear friends, is a call to an examination of conscience.  What is in our lives that needs to die?  We probably know some of them: impure relationships; taking part in addictions that sever our pure relationships with family, friends, community, and God; darker things like consulting mediums, new age philosophies, and practices of manifestation; spending too much time on the internet or watching television (disciples shouldn’t be binge watching anything), and the list goes on.  The first step in living for eternity is putting to death the things of the flesh, so we should all give that some serious prayer in the days ahead.

    And then, the next step, is living in the Spirit.  If our first step was to reflect on what in us needs to die, this next step should have us praying about what in us needs to live.  What is it that God has given us in our lives into which we need to pour our energy and talent and resources so that we live for the Kingdom and give glory to God?  If we have a family, then we need to bring the Spirit to our family: we need to pray for them and with them, give them quality and loving time, find the joy in them.  We priests have to pour everything into our ministry: loving our parishioners, giving them our time in the sacraments and in our prayer, showing them how to love Jesus and live for the Kingdom.  Wherever God has put us, we need to pour the Spirit we have received into that situation.  We need to bring everyone around us into the Kingdom, and find our joy in living for God and the other people in our lives.

    We are no longer men and women in the flesh, we are people of the Spirit, with the Spirit of Christ in us, and so in Christ we cast aside those deeds of darkness and, taking his yoke, we accomplish the work Jesus has given us.  This is the way, friends.  This is the way that brings us reasonable happiness in this life, and supreme happiness forever with our God.

  • Tuesday of the Eighth Week of Ordinary Time

    Tuesday of the Eighth Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    In this section of the Gospel, Jesus is taking the time to set things right about what it means to be rich and famous. If yesterday had not been the memorial of Mary, Mother of the Church, we would have had the Gospel reading about the rich young man. As you might remember about that passage, Jesus looked at the young man and loved him, and then challenged him to give up his possessions and follow him. But the young man went away sad, for he had many possessions. To this, Peter replies in today’s Gospel, “We have given up everything and followed you.” I don’t know if this is boasting, or frustration, or some mix of the two. But Jesus responds to his assertion by telling him that now, in the present age, those who give up everything will receive so much more.

    I don’t think Jesus was trying to put forth a prosperity gospel here, though. I really don’t think he was saying they’d be rich and famous in the present age. What he was saying is that they would be rich in what matters to God, rich in the Holy Spirit, rich in love and mercy. And it’s that last line that brings it all into focus: “many that are first will be last, and the last will be first.” By being the least, giving up everything, they will be first in the Kingdom of God, which was and is here among God’s people.

    So for all of us, rich young men, or overzealous disciples, or just plain folks who want to inherit eternal life, Jesus looks at us and loves us, and calls us to give up everything that’s in the way, so that we can be the last who will be first. What is it that we have to let go of today so that we can be first in the Kingdom of God?

  • The Second Sunday of Lent

    The Second Sunday of Lent

    Today’s readings

    Perhaps you recall last week’s Gospel reading, in which Jesus, having been baptized, was prompted and led by the Spirit into the desert for forty days and forty nights.  He fasted and prayed and near the end of it, he was tempted by Satan.  It’s a vivid image.  Today’s Gospel has Jesus, on the way to Jerusalem and his death, take Peter, James, and John up a mountain and is transfigured before them.  This is also a very vivid image.  These images are so vivid, in fact, that they are presented on the first and second Sundays of Lent every single year.  So the Church, I think, is giving us a framework for Lent and the spiritual life that we should pay attention to.

    There’s a connection between these two stories, these two images, that I have been reflecting on this week.  Deacon Pat made a point in his homily last week that got me thinking about that connection.  Speaking of what was going on in the temptation of Jesus, he pointed out that Satan waited until the end of the forty days, when the Gospel says Jesus was hungry.  That had to be the understatement of the millennium if Jesus fasted forty days and nights!  Deacon Pat’s point was that Satan waits until we are at a low point, just like Jesus was feeling all the physical and psychological effects of fasting so long.  Then he makes his move to tempt us.  When we are at a low point, we are more easily influenced by temptation.

    And that begins a cycle that I think we can all understand and perhaps relate to.  I’m guessing most of us have experienced it ourselves.  We are at a low point, so temptation comes to us.  Without our strength, we give in to temptation.  The Tempter lies to us, and promises things that he cannot and will not deliver, or tells us things about ourselves that are not true.  Jesus was tempted with bread, immunity from harm, and all the kingdoms of the world.  Satan has no power over any of this.  He has no power, ultimately, over us, because his main weapons, sin and death, have already been overcome by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  Satan is a liar, but because we are at a low point, we believe the lies.  Then, when we give in to the lies, Satan convinces us of another whopper of a lie, and that is that we are unworthy of God’s love and mercy.  Which makes us feel even lower, so we get more temptation, and so on and so on and so on.

    But the Transfiguration gives us the foretaste and promise of what God is doing to break this sad cycle.  First, as we see in the figures of Moses and Elijah who appear with Jesus Transfigured, God gives us the guidance of the Law and the Prophets.  In these days, that means the guidance of the Church, who proclaims the Word and provides access to the Sacraments which provide healing and guidance and life. 

    Then God takes our brokenness, our sin and transgression, the sickness of our spirit battered by the Tempter, and he transfigures it.  He re-creates us into the glorified people we were created to be, so that we can be caught up in God’s life forever and live with him for eternity.  Finally, in the Transfiguration, God promises us that we, who are worth far more than the passing things that Satan promises us, have hope of the Resurrection.  Just as Jesus’ Transfiguration was a foreshadowing of the glorified body of his Resurrection, so it is for us a foreshadowing of the life of grace that we will inherit if we follow Jesus up that mountain.

    The cycle of temptation is a dirty, rotten thing.  It eats at us all the time and invites us to lower the bar and accept the lies that Satan offers.  But the Transfiguration proclaims that that kind of life is not what we were created for.  And through the disciplines of Lent, turning back to Christ, letting him interrupt the cycle of sin and shame in our lives, we can be transfigured into glory.  That’s our real promise, and it’s made by the One who never lies. 

    So hang in there on your Lenten promises.  If you haven’t started, it’s not too late.  All of our penance is turning down Satan’s lies in favor of God’s promises.  And God is the One who keeps his promises.

  • Tuesday of the Twentieth Week of Ordinary Time

    Tuesday of the Twentieth Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    Today’s Gospel reading follows picks up where yesterday’s reading left off.  As you remember, the rich young man went away sad, not knowing how he could attain eternal life, because he had many possessions.  Today, Jesus explains to his disciples what was going on.  

    “Amen, I say to you, it will be hard for one who is rich to enter the Kingdom of heaven.”  That was the sadness for the rich young man, right?  He went away sad because of his many possessions.  Now, it’s not going to be hard because God is setting up the obstacle; it will be hard because the rich young man was grieved at letting go of what he had.

    So it is with us sometimes.  Very often, we have placed an obstacle between ourselves and God.  Or we are holding on to so much other stuff that we can’t receive what God wants us to have.  Odds are one hundred percent that what God wants us to have will make us infinitely happier than the stuff currently in our hands.You see,  Jesus isn’t bashing rich people.  And it’s not just rich people who will have trouble going to the kingdom.  It’s going to be hard for anyone who has an obstacle between themselves and Jesus.  So whether that obstacle is riches, or our work, or our lifestyle, or our grudges, or our comfort zone, or whatever, we need to let go of all that.  It’s going to be hard for us to get into heaven with obstacles in our way, with stuff in our hands, “but for God all things are possible.”  If we let go of the garbage we are holding onto, if we make a real sacrifice for the kingdom, then the kingdom is ours.

  • The Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed (Remembrance Mass)

    The Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed (Remembrance Mass)

    This weekend, we chose to celebrate All Souls at all of the parish Masses on Sunday (which is allowed) as part of our four-week series called “A Crash Course in Catholicism.”

    Today, we come together to remember our loved ones who have passed from this life to the hope of the kingdom.  As we continue to grieve their loss, we remember the promises our God has made to us and to them, and we pray that they will all receive the fullness of the fulfillment of those promises.  Here at Saint Mary’s, we are also observing the end of our four-week preaching series called “A Crash Course in Catholicism,” and this week’s topic is, very appropriately, “What happens when we die?”

    It’s a very important topic to conclude this four-week series, because it’s a topic that touches every single one of us at one point or another.  The loss of our loved ones, and our own mortality, are universal realities for every single person.  In death, we are united with our Lord, who himself “suffered death and was buried,” as we pray in the Creed at every Sunday Mass.  While death was not in God’s plan for us, the fullness of life in the Kingdom of Heaven certainly was.  Passing through the gates of death, we have the promise of life everlasting.  Jesus came to show us the way through all of that, so that we could be in the place where He and His Father intend to give us the fullness of glory.

    As wonderful as this world can be, it has its flaws – we all know that.  It is important that we keep in mind that the fullness of grace and blessing that God wants for us is not on this earth, but rather in the life to come, the glory of heaven, for which we were all created and toward which we must all be straining.  We are travelers in this place; we are only here for a time, and so our time here must be marked by travelling, moving forward, toward that heavenly glory.  This is a story that began at our baptism, continues through our life here on earth, and until we reach the goal of all our lives, our heavenly glory.

    There is no one in heaven who is not a saint.  That’s why it’s so important that we join ourselves to God in Christ, that we follow the Way our Lord marked out for us.  We must all become saints so that we can live forever with God.  We should want that for ourselves as much as we do for our departed loved ones.  Becoming a saint is our vocation in this world, that’s the ultimate meaning of life on this earth.  The saints in the Kingdom help us on this journey: their stories are examples for us and their prayers call God’s graces on our lives.  We Catholics don’t worship the saints; we worship God alone.  But we call on the saints for intercession, much as we might call on a friend or loved one to pray for us.  Those saints join us at Mass every time we celebrate it; we all lift up our voices in praise and prayer to God who is the focus of our worship.

    I love what the third Eucharistic Prayer offers for Masses for the dead.  We’ll use it this morning, as I do for almost every funeral, but it’s nice sometimes to reflect on those words and let them enter into our prayer more fully.  So the prayer goes: “Remember your servant N. whom you have called from this world to yourself. Grant that he (she) who was united with your Son in a death like his, may also be one with him in his Resurrection…”  Here the Church recognizes that our God does not leave us alone in death.  Death was never God’s will for the human person, rather death came as a result of sin, as Saint Paul reminds us so well.  But in this prayer, the Church recognizes that our God, whose intent is always for our salvation, took on our lowly form and assumed all its defects, including the capacity to die.  And so of the many ways that we are united with our Lord, one of them is through death.  We certainly see death was not the end for him; so if we have faith and follow our Lord, it will not be the end for us either.

    The prayer continues: “…when from the earth he will raise up in the flesh those who have died, and transform our lowly body after the pattern of his own glorious body.”  Just as we have been united in death with our Lord, so he intends that we would be united with him in resurrection.  Our Lord intends that the glory of the Resurrection of our Lord would open for us the way to the Kingdom of God, that Kingdom for which we were created in the first place, that Kingdom which is the destination of our life-long journey.  In resurrection, we will be transformed.  The weakness of our flesh will be redeemed, our woundedness will be bound up, our disease will be healed, our sin will be wiped away, leaving nothing but the radiant glory of the very face of God.  Our bodies are not so profane nor so damaged that they can’t become glorious, by being united with our Lord in resurrection.

    We continue to pray: “To our departed brothers and sisters, too, and to all who were pleasing to you at their passing from this life, give kind admittance into your kingdom.”  Here the Church acknowledges that the dead depend on our prayers.  We implore the Lord to give admittance to the Kingdom to our loved ones.  We pray that their sins would be forgiven, that their weaknesses would be overlooked, that their relationships would be purified, that whatever was less than glorious in them might be made fit for the Kingdom of God.  The Church recognizes that most of our dead brothers and sisters continue their journey to the Kingdom after death.  We call this reality “Purgatory,” and it is not a punishment so much as it is a gift: a gift of continued purification so that the soul can be made fit to live eternally with the Lord.  Our departed loved ones move in this journey with different, more splendid graces than we have on this earth, and they take it up with perhaps fewer distractions than those that divert our attention from the goal.  Whatever is not purified on earth can be purified by the gift of Purgatory, for those who have faith, and for those who need grace.

    Finally, the Church recognizes that we are all headed for the same goal, we and our loved ones who have died: “There we hope to enjoy for ever the fullness of your glory, when you will wipe away every tear from our eyes.  For seeing you, our God, as you are, we shall be like you for all the ages and praise you without end, through Christ our Lord, through whom you bestow in the world all that is good.”  The Kingdom is where all of our sadness is erased, and with eyes free from the tears of this life, we can finally see God as he is, and not as we would have him.  We can then be like him, caught up, really, in his life, one with him forever in Christ, receiving all that is good for all eternity.

    Our greatest work of charity is to pray that our deceased loved ones would receive all these graces, these wondrous and holy gifts, from our God, who deeply longs that each one of his children would return to be one with him.  In praying for them, the Church extends its ministry to all of us who mourn, enabling us to know the love of God in our time of grief and sadness.  Jesus is the resurrection and the life, all who believe in him will not die forever.  Death was never intended as our forever, as our final stop.  For to God, all are alive, just in different ways.  Praise God that he gives us life, and mercy, and grace, and resurrection.

    Eternal rest grant unto all of our loved ones, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.  May their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.  Amen.

  • The Twenty-fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    The Twenty-fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    There’s a principle in the spiritual life known in Greek as kenosis.  Nobody likes to talk about it.  It’s nicer to talk about the consolations of prayer and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit and things like that.  But nobody likes to talk about kenosis because, in English, we would translate that something like “self-emptying.”  That means making all the stuff we like or tolerate in us to go away, so that we can be filled up with God.  Now, the being filled up with God isn’t so bad; I think most people would like that.  We would probably say we’re all about the being filled up with God part.  But getting rid of the stuff that’s in there so that we can be filled up with God isn’t so much fun.

    Kenosis is what today’s Liturgy of the Word is all about.  The first reading is from the book of Wisdom, which was composed about fifty years before the birth of Jesus. In today’s selection from that book, the Wisdom writer speaks of the just one.  The just one is obnoxious to the unjust, because his example challenges them and his words accuse them.  Nobody likes to have that kind of thing thrown in their face, and so they plot to take the just one’s life, which is exactly, of course, what will happen to Jesus.  So this first reading is a bit of liturgical foreshadowing.

    And that’s what Jesus tells his Apostles.  In the Gospel reading, he takes them aside and confides something he doesn’t want to be widely known, at least not yet.  He says that he will be handed over to men who will kill him, and then three days later he will rise.  That’s what we call the Paschal Mystery, and unfortunately not even those Apostles were ready to hear it.  Instead, they engage in a frivolous argument about who was the greatest among them.  Can you imagine their embarrassment when Jesus asked them what they were arguing about along the way?

    I can just imagine Jesus’ anguish as he reflected on that truth, knowing that the end was coming near and that he would die a horrifying death, and not even his closest friends could offer him so much as a kind word, let alone reflect on what that might mean for them, and the mission.  And so he confronts them about their embarrassing argument and tells them that the one who would wish to be the greatest must be the lowest of all, serving all the rest.  That was true for him, and it would be true for them too.  Quite frankly, it’s true for us too.  That’s kenosis, and to one degree or another, we are all called to share in it.

    Here’s the thing: if the Apostles couldn’t handle a message of kenosis, then it’s going to be challenging for the rest of us too.  Think about it: our society doesn’t teach us to want to be the last of all and the servant of all.  Our society tells us to look out for ourselves and take care of number one.  Our society tells us to strive for every honor and glory for ourselves, to be known as the greatest, much like the Apostles wanted to be in that silly argument.  We even hear about the so-called “Prosperity Gospel” in which televangelists and other preachers tell people how much God wants them to be rich and famous.  Here’s a spiritual pro-tip: God doesn’t care if we’re rich and famous or not, he just wants us to take care of others, have relationship with him, and live the Gospel.

    Some of the resistance, too, is internal.  Some of the resistance is because, on some level, we love our sins more than we love Jesus.  Ouch – it hurts to say that, but there’s truth there.  Unless we have the desire to give up our sinfulness, really have a firm purpose of amendment, as the Rite of Penance puts it; unless we want that more than anything, then we can’t want Jesus, or his Kingdom, or the Gospel, or eternal life.  We’ve got to be ready to give up everything that takes up space in our lives if we ever want to inherit the glory that God created us to have.

    Imagine you have your hands full of stuff that you really like.  Maybe it’s not the best stuff, but it gives you pleasure and so you hang on to it.  Or maybe it’s not really safe, but it makes you feel comfortable, and that’s as good as it gets right now.  Now someone comes and offers you something much better.  But your hands are full, and you’ve become used to the pleasure or the comfort, and so you don’t have any way to receive, to grab the really good thing you are being offered.  The only way you’re going to be able to receive that good gift is by letting go of the garbage in your hand.  Can you do that?  Can you empty your hands so that you can receive grace?

    Because here’s the truth: if we want to enter the Kingdom, we’re going to have to empty ourselves out and get rid of all that nonsense. We’re going to have to repent of our sins, give up every distraction, and focus entirely on our God.  Because nothing that looks like earthly glory and honor and prosperity will fit into heaven. Hanging on to the sin, the selfish ambition, the conceited entitlement will prevent us from filled up with Christ, from receiving his grace, from inheriting eternal life.  We have to get rid of it all: that’s what kenosis looks like for us.  And whether we like to talk about it or not, it’s the only way we’re getting into heaven.

  • The Twenty-First Sunday of Ordinary Time – Bread of Life Discourse V: So What?

    The Twenty-First Sunday of Ordinary Time – Bread of Life Discourse V: So What?

    Today’s readings

    “So what?”  That’s perhaps the most important question of the spiritual life.  Maybe it’s even the most important question of life, period.  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 in my young adulthood, 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 my last parish, I followed a beloved pastor who was very ill and had passed away a few months before I was asked to go there.  The people there, because of his illness, had coalesced in a way that they carried the burden of the parish duties and really were able to exist without an active pastor. So when I went there, it was more than difficult.  They hadn’t come to know me or my love for them yet – indeed, I hadn’t come to know my love for them yet.  And so I asked the Lord if I could leave my vocation.  His answer, obviously, wasn’t “yes.”  And the prayer that kept coming back to me was: “Master to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.”

    In these last days, with the resurgence of the scandals in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, I’ve found myself praying those words again.  It’s hard to be a priest right now; it’s hard to be Catholic.  If you’ve found yourself wanting to throw in the towel and leave it all behind, I dare say you’re not alone.  If you’re angry and hurt and disappointed and frustrated, then you and I have some common feelings.  But I have to believe in the power and presence of Christ our God in the Eucharist. That in these five weeks, the blessing of the Real Presence: Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity is what keeps me coming back, helps me get out of bed each morning.  In fact, that gift makes me want to be a better priest, a better Catholic, every single day.  Because only Jesus’ Eucharistic presence in the Church has the key to my eternal life. Where else on earth would I ever want to go?

  • I Believe in Life Everlasting: A Talk on Catholic Beliefs Regarding Eternity Given to the Clarendon Hills Interfaith Dinner

    I Believe in Life Everlasting: A Talk on Catholic Beliefs Regarding Eternity Given to the Clarendon Hills Interfaith Dinner

    Today at Notre Dame we celebrated the funeral of a dear woman who has been part of our community for many years.  The funeral Liturgy provides a glimpse as to what the Catholic Church teaches about life, death, and eternity.  In particular, the prayer of commendation, which is said just before leaving the church says this:

    Into your hands, Father of mercies,
    we commend our sister Helen
    in the sure and certain hope
    that, together with all who have died in Christ,
    she will rise with him on the last day. 

    Merciful Lord,
    turn toward us and listen to our prayers:
    open the gates of paradise to your servant
    and help us who remain
    to comfort one another with assurances of faith,
    until we all meet in Christ
    and with you and with our sister for ever.

    From this beautiful prayer, we can pick up two very important aspects of the Church’s teaching on eternity: first, for the baptized believer who has done her or his best to live the Gospel, a resurrection to life is assured – in “sure and certain hope.”  Second, that resurrection will happen together with all believers, and until then we wait, comforting one another with “assurances of faith” so that one day we can all “meet in Christ.”

    So first, the believer has sure and certain hope of resurrection to life.  Many people erroneously believe that because of the Church’s teaching on works, and also the teaching on purgatory, the salvation of the believer is not certain.  But we believe that our salvation has indeed been won by Christ, and believe that those who accept his free offer of grace and friendship are indeed assured of their eternal salvation (CCC 1031).  The need for purification in purgatory is a separate matter; and I’ll ask you to bookmark that for a bit.*

    Second, we believe that salvation is something we’re supposed to do together.  Yes, the individual believer has to choose to receive grace and friendship with God, but we live that grace and friendship in communion with the body of the Church, and it’s up to us as believers to encourage one another and bring one another to heaven.  This is such an important concept that the Church, in its instruction on marriage, insists that “authentic married love is caught up into divine love,” in effect, the spouses love one another into heaven (Gaudium et Spes 48.2, cf CCC 1639).  Even vocations to the consecrated religious life (monks, sisters, etc.) are ordered to the salvation of the person within the context of community.  As Saint Benedict wrote in his Rule for monks, “Let them prefer nothing whatever to Christ, and may he bring us all together to eternal life” (Rule of St. Benedict, 72).  This desire for communal salvation is so great that the Church prays for it at every celebration of the Eucharist.  For example, this selection from Eucharistic Prayer I notes that the whole family of believers comes together to offer the sacrifice:

    Therefore, Lord, we pray:
    graciously accept this oblation of our service,
    that of your whole family;
    order our days in your peace,
    and command that we be delivered from eternal damnation
    and counted among the flock of those you have chosen.

    And so we can say that Catholic eternity consists of assured and communal salvation for each believer.  But what does it look like?

    At the moment of death, each person receives a particular, individual judgment, which corresponds to whether or not they have accepted God’s free gift of grace and friendship.  We see this biblically in the 16th chapter of the Gospel of Luke in which Jesus relates a parable about Lazarus, a poor man, who is ignored by a rich man every single day of their lives on earth.  When they have both died, Lazarus goes to heaven, while the rich man goes to hell.  The rich man cries out for relief to Father Abraham, who replies: “My child, remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented.  Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established to prevent anyone from crossing who might wish to go from our side to yours or from your side to ours” (Luke 16:25-26).  Jesus was giving this analogy to show the choice that we must make: accepting God’s friendship means living a certain way, loving others and reaching out to them in their need.

    Heaven, then, is a choice that leads to perfect life with the Most Holy Trinity, with the Blessed Virgin Mary and all the angels and saints.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church says that heaven “is the ultimate end and fulfillment of the deepest human longings, the state of supreme, definitive happiness” (CCC 1024).  I always tell the children that I teach that God always wants us to be happy.  And if we want to be happy forever, we will always seek God’s will and do what he calls us to do.  That is the life that leads to heaven.

    In heaven, we have communion with the angels and saints and all of the Church, but also and especially with God himself.  This communion is almost indescribable, although the Bible speaks of it in images: light, life, the heavenly Jerusalem, paradise.  Saint Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians summed it up: “No eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor. 2:9, cf CCC 1027).  It’s hard to describe this communion with God because he is transcendent, and so unless he gives us the grace of a capacity to see him, it doesn’t happen.  We call this grace the “beatific vision” in which we are allowed to see God and share with him the joy of salvation (CCC 1028).

    Now, we can’t talk about heaven without at least mentioning the other thing, and that is hell.  Because that’s where the rich man found himself, so because Jesus included it in his teaching, we know that it exists.  But what the Church teaches about hell is that it is in itself a choice.  To get there, one must completely reject God’s free gift of grace and friendship.  This is usually done through the act of unrepentant mortal sin: one knows the right thing to do, and actively chooses not to do it, and acts contrary to the good.  If a person commits a mortal sin, it can be forgiven through grace, but for the one who chooses not to seek forgiveness and chooses not to repent, the only other option is a life devoid of God’s presence.  And that life we call hell (CCC 1033).

    But here’s the thing about hell.  We don’t really know if anyone’s there or not, well, except for Satan and his demons.  But since God doesn’t send anyone to hell – one chooses to go there freely – we can’t say for certain that there is anyone there.  The Church teaches that we definitely know that thousands of people are in heaven, because we call them saints.  The process of sainthood involves the recognition of miracles that happen after the saint’s death, indicating that the person is acting from the glory of heaven to affect the good of those on earth.  But the Church has never named anyone who is in hell, because we cannot know if, at the moment of death, an unrepentant sinner may have called out to God for mercy, repenting of her or his sins.  We know that hell exists, and we know that it is possible to go there of one’s own free will, but we don’t know that anyone has chosen that option.  In fact, we hope not.

    To sum up Catholic teaching about the nature of heaven and eternity, I’d like to once again choose some words from the Church’s Liturgy.  This time it comes from the prayers for the dead, which can be said at the bedside of a dying person.  For them we pray:

    Go forth, Christian soul, from this world
    in the name of God the almighty Father,
    who created you,
    in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God,
    who suffered for you,
    in the name of the Holy Spirit,
    who was poured out upon you.
    Go forth, faithful Christian!

    May you live in peace this day,
    may your home be with God in Zion,
    with Mary, the virgin Mother of God,
    with Joseph, and all the angels and saints …

    May you return to [your Creator]
    who formed you from the dust of the earth.
    May holy Mary, the angels, and all the saints
    come to meet you as you go forth from this life…
    May you see your Redeemer face to face.  Amen.

    *Purgatory

    So I referred to Purgatory earlier, and I said to book mark it.  Let’s come back to it now.  Purgatory is thought of as the final purification, in which the soul is made fit to be caught up into the life of God in heaven.  Now once again, every believer who has accepted God’s grace and friendship is absolutely assured of eternal salvation.  But if they have sins that have left them impure at death, they must be purified to enter the joy of heaven (CCC 1030).  The purification in purgatory is entirely different that the punishment of the damned in hell.  Purgatory is, instead, that “cleansing fire” that Saint Paul speaks of in his first letter to the Corinthians (cf. 1 Cor 3:15, 1 Pet 1:7).  This is why the Church prays for the dead, a practice that comes from the book of Maccabees in which we read: “Therefore [Judas Maccabeus] made atonement for the dead, that they might be delivered from their sin” (2 Macc 12:46, cf. CCC 1032).

    I tell people that Purgatory is really a gift.  It’s that time and experience of our spiritual life in which we are completely made ready for the life of heaven.  It’s kind of stereotypical for a Catholic to say this, but eternity can be likened to a party.  Those who freely accept the invitation freely offered enter in and enjoy the party.  This is heaven.  Those who reject the invitation outright are outside the party, and this is hell.  But imagine going to a party and you know that you’ve done or said something wrong to another person at the party, in particular the host.  You’re not going to be enjoying yourself with the guilt of that indiscretion on your heart.  So you need to do something to fix the relationship so that you can enjoy the party.  That’s what Purgatory is.  You still get to go to the party, but you have to make amends first.