Caritas Christi Urget Nos

Tag: grace

  • The Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time [A]

    The Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time [A]

    Today’s readings

    I think that if you took a survey, nearly everyone would want to say that they are righteous, that is, that they do the right thing.  But I also think that survey would reveal how amazingly different each person’s definition of righteousness would be.  One person’s idea of righteousness might be that they do what everyone else is doing – how could that be wrong?  Everyone does it.  Another person’s idea of righteousness might be rather selfish: they do what’s best for them, or for their family – they take care of number one.  Still another view of righteousness might be that one picks and chooses a set of rules by which they decide to live their lives, and never deviate from them to one side or the other.  This view, of course, was the view of the Pharisees who had over six hundred such rules by which to abide.

    If you’re wondering what’s wrong with any of these, today’s Scriptures have the answer.  Jesus tells us that none of these self-righteous positions is going to cut it: those who follow him have a much more strenuous rule of life, and we call that rule the Gospel.

    Do you count yourself among the blessed because you’ve never murdered anyone or participated in an abortion?  Well, that’s a good start, but if you’ve harbored anger against another person, if you have refused to forgive them, if you have marginalized a person because of their race, or their language, or their religion, or their sexual orientation, or because of a physical disability, if you have belittled people by sarcasm or bullying, if you have hated another person in any way at any time, then you’ve murdered them in your heart, you’ve violated the fifth commandment, and that’s not okay.

    Do you feel righteous because you’ve never had extramarital relations with another person?  Great, but that’s just a start.  If you have had lustful thoughts about another person, if you have looked at pornography, or fantasized about a relationship with another person; if you have nurtured a relationship that is improper in any way, then you have violated the sixth commandment, and it’s time to turn back.

    Do you feel that your word is good as gold because you have never lied under oath?  Again, it’s a good start, but if you’ve told a lie of any kind in any situation, even a white lie in most circumstances, if you have not told the whole truth when the truth was called for, if you have misrepresented the truth in any way or have not lived what you believe and profess, then you have violated the eighth commandment and have been dishonest to some degree.

    These are not words of comfort today, are they?  I bring these all out in my preaching today because Jesus makes them urgent.  I do it with a sense of deep humility, because I know that I have failed in some of these things more times than I’d care to admit.

    Jesus tells us today, “Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the Scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.”  That seems pretty harsh.  The Scribes and Pharisees had those six hundred or so laws by which they lived their lives, and some of them were pretty nit-picky if you ask me.  So how can we ever hope to enter the kingdom of heaven?  It just seems like an impossible task, doesn’t it?

    But what Jesus is asking of us isn’t to come up with a list of a whole lot more nit-picky rules.  Jesus is asking us to embrace the spirit of the law, and to live it with integrity.  That too is daunting, but the good news about choosing to live that kind of righteousness is that it comes with grace.  It comes with the gift of the Holy Spirit poured out on us to live the Gospel.  We have to pray for that grace every day, and we have to strive to live the rather rigorous righteousness that Jesus calls for in today’s Scripture readings.

    As the writer of Sirach in our first reading tells us, this kind of righteousness is a choice that we must make.  He says,

    He has set before you fire and water
    to whichever you choose, stretch forth your hand.
    Before man are life and death, good and evil,
    whichever he chooses shall be given him.

    When we make the wrong choice, or fail to make the right choice, we have sinned.  But we know that our sins are not who we are and are not who we are called to be.  We have the Sacrament of Penance to set us back on the right path and to wash our sins away.  If you haven’t made a confession in a while, now is the time.  Take advantage of the healing grace our Lord longs to pour out on you.  I’m always amazed at how much joy I feel when I have gone to confession.  It’s the only cure for our unrighteous thoughts, words and actions.

    Jesus gives us an incredible challenge in today’s Liturgy of the Word.  But he does not leave us without the grace to live it out.  We just have to choose, every day, to live the Gospel.  We have to pray, every day, for the grace to do that with integrity.  And when we fail, we have to receive the Sacrament of Penance so that the grace to do better will be poured out in our lives.  It’s not the easiest way to live our lives, but it is the most blessed.  As the Psalmist says today, “Blessed are they who follow the law of the Lord.”

  • Thursday of the Second Week of Advent

    Thursday of the Second Week of Advent

    Today’s readings

    It’s amazing, I think, that our God would choose to become one of us, frail and weak creatures that we are.  And he could have come and become incarnate in any way he chose.  But what he chose is almost incomprehensible: the Lord of all came into the world as a tiny baby, born to a poor family, to an unwed mother.  He grew through childhood and young adulthood, working with his hands in the trade of his earthly father.  He knew the frustrations we have, and he knew our sadness and disappointment.  He was well-acquainted with our infirmities, and even grieved at the death of those he loved.  He could have done this in many easier ways, in much more splendor.  So why this way?

    There is a theological principle that says something like “whatever was not assumed was not redeemed.”  He had to assume, take on all of our weaknesses, so that he would be able to redeem all its brokenness.  What great comfort it is that our Advent leads to the Birth of a Savior so wonderful in glory that the whole earth could not contain him, but also so intimately one of us that he bore all our sorrows and grief.  It is amazing that God’s plan to save the world took shape by assuming our own form, even to the point of dying our death.

    That’s what I thought about as I reflected on today’s first reading.  Israel was pretty low and lacking in power, in the grand scheme of things.  Almost every nation was more powerful than them.  Yet they were not unnoticed by God – indeed they were actually favored.  God’s plan for salvation takes place among the weakness of all of us.  God notices that weakness, takes it on and redeems it in glory.

    That’s the good news today for all of us who suffer in whatever way.  God notices our suffering, in the person of Jesus he bore that same suffering, and in the glory of the Paschal Mystery, he redeemed it.  God may not wave a magic wand and make all of our problems go away, but he will never leave us alone in them.

    And it all started with the Incarnation.  The birth of one tiny child to a poor family, in the tiniest region of the lowliest nation on earth.  God can do amazing things when we are incredibly weak.

  • Monday of the Thirty-third Week of Ordinary Time

    Monday of the Thirty-third Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    “Lord, please let me see.”

    What a wonderful prayer. Certainly in the blind beggar’s life, that prayer was for the gift of physical sight. But maybe that’s not the kind of sight we need. Maybe the kind of sight we need in our lives goes a bit deeper inside.

    There are those of us going through difficulties in life: problems at work, family issues, personal stuff. These kinds of things can be so frustrating, especially when there is no end in sight. The blindness here is that maybe we can’t see the solution. Perhaps we’ve prayed so often about it, and nothing seems to change. “Lord, please let me see…” the solution to the problem, and give me the grace to see the answer to my prayers.

    There are those of us who have to deal with difficult people in life. Whether they be co-workers, neighbors, or even members of our own family, the issues between us may cloud any ability to see God’s work in our brothers and sisters. “Lord, please let me see…” other people through your eyes, eyes that see the goodness of others and not just the obstacles between us.

    Many have to deal with a pattern of sin in their lives.  It could be a fault that has plagued them for much of their adult lives.  In that kind of circumstance, it can be hard to see an end to the cycle of sin; it can even be hard to see God’s presence in our lives.  “Lord, please let me see…” myself as you created me, and your grace at work in my life to lead me to the path of life eternal.

    Whatever it is we are frustrated about, we can bring that to our Lord today. As we offer our gifts, may we also offer our frustrations and give them to the Lord. And, as we receive our Lord in the Eucharist today, may we our prayer for grace be the words of the blind beggar: “Lord, please let me see.”

  • Monday of the Thirty-second Week of Ordinary Time

    Monday of the Thirty-second Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    Today’s gospel reading deals with a major theme of Jesus, and that is sin and forgiveness.  That was why he came here to earth, as we well know, and today he tells us why, while sin can run rampant, it will never have the final say.

    “Things that cause sin will inevitably occur,” he says.  And don’t we know how right he is!  Anyone who has had to deal with some pattern of sin knows how futile it can sometimes be to battle it.  Just when you think you have made progress, something or someone comes along, presses the wrong button in us, and – just like that – we are back in our sins again.  The inevitability of sin is one of the scourges of this present life, and it is the root cause of so many of the ills that plague us, ills like depression, disease, war, terrorism, death – all these and many more owe their very existence to the inevitability of sin.

    Sin has to be rebuked.  We have to be open to accountability, and to the warning of our brothers or sisters to get us back on the right track.  Kind of like when my doctor told me that my asthma would get a lot better if I lost a little weight.  I didn’t like hearing that, but I knew he was right, and if I want to be able to breathe better, I need to listen to him.  So when a brother or sister urges us to turn away from sin, blessed are we when we are open to their counsel.

    But as inevitable as sin is, Jesus tells us, it never gets to have the final word.  Forgiveness does.  Mercy does.  Love does.  If a brother or sister “wrongs you seven times in one day and returns to you seven times saying, ‘I am sorry,’ you should forgive him,” Jesus tells us.  Because that’s what he is about.  The only thing Jesus came to do was to forgive sins.  That’s what opens to us the gates of heaven and the promise of eternity.  And our job is to keep those gates open for each other, even if we have been wronged seven times in a day.

    Sin is rampant and it can dog us day in and day out.  But it doesn’t get to mar our eternity.  Not if we let Jesus do the one thing he came to do: to forgive our sins.  And of course, that means we have to forgive as we have been forgiven as well.

  • The Twenty-ninth Sunday of Ordinary Time [C]

    The Twenty-ninth Sunday of Ordinary Time [C]

    Today’s readings

    Prayer is one of the most important elements of the Christian life, of the life of a disciple, and yet it is also, I think, one of the most difficult to master.  When I’ve mastered it, I’ll let you know – although it might be from beyond the grave!  Still, it’s something that we work at every day of our lives, and the working it out should be one of our greatest joys.  In today’s Liturgy of the Word, we have just one element of prayer, and that is the element of persistence in prayer.

    Now I’m going to be real careful here.  Lots of people give some lousy advice about prayer: if you just pray hard enough and long enough, everything will eventually work out all right.  I’m not going to tell you that, because things often don’t work out perfectly no matter how much we pray, and they almost never work out the way we’d like them to.
    So why even bother praying?  Well, hang in there, we’ll get to that.

    We have a wonderful image of prayer in our first reading.  I invite you to raise your arms with me if you’re able, and leave them raised until you can’t any more.  This is what Moses had to do to keep the Hebrew army in a winning position against Amelek and his warriors.  The minute Moses lowered his hands to rest, things went ill for the Hebrews, but as long as his hands were raised, things went okay.

    Now, again, I proceed cautiously here, because I don’t think things always work out perfectly as long as we pray.  But there’s an element of this analogy that is very important, I think.  And that element is that sometimes it’s hard to be persistent in prayer.  Sometimes you get tired.  Maybe your arms are not yet weary, but they might soon get there.

    I can think of a few times in my life when I’ve grown weary of praying.  One of them was in my late thirties when I was trying, once again, and once and for all, to figure out what God wanted me to do with my life.  I prayed and prayed and prayed, and it didn’t seem like God was answering at all.  I finally grew weary of prayer and told God that he should give me a big challenge and whatever it was, I would do it.  Then one day, the day of the Easter Vigil that year, I got a letter in the mail from a friend and it made everything crystal clear.  Six months later I was in seminary.

    Sometimes in our weariness we have to let go of what we think we would like God to do for us and just let God be God.  But how are your arms doing?  Are you weary yet?  Well if so, you’re in good company.  Moses found that to really be persistent in prayer, he needed friends – Aaron and Hur – to hold him up.  That’s true for all of us, I think.  There comes a point when we need to admit that we need friends to hold us in prayer, to take some of the burden of prayer when persistence has become difficult.  If you haven’t already, you can put your arms down now.

    I honestly don’t really know what to make of the gospel reading.  I mean, are we really supposed to think that God is an unjust judge who has no respect for anyone?  Obviously not.  I think that we’re supposed to see in this little parable that if even an unjust judge – one who neither fears God nor respects any person – if even that judge will eventually give in to the widow pleading for just judgment, well then how much more will our God who is infinitely just and doesn’t just respect us but loves us beyond all imagining, how much more will he pour out his blessings of justice on all of us?

    Which isn’t to say that he will definitely answer our prayers the way we want them answered.  Those persistent prayers will be answered in God’s way, in God’s time.  He may say “no” or he may even allow something evil in order to make something good of it.  We may have to bear the burden of disease or the sadness of the death of a loved one, in order that we might be healed in other ways, that we might come to know God’s love in the midst of our burdens.

    When we persist in prayer, sometimes it the change that happens is not the situation, but ourselves.  We may grow in grace in some way that we would not otherwise experience or even expect.  We may grow in our capacity to love, or in our awareness of the needs of others, or in our ability to be steadfast in the midst of chaos.  All of these give honor and glory to God, which after all, brothers and sisters, is our ultimate purpose in life.

    So let’s get back to that question that I asked at the beginning of the homily.  Why even bother praying if we’re not going to get what we want.  I think we pray for three reasons.  First, we pray to grow in our relationship with God who is our friend.  As in any relationship, we open ourselves up to conversation, watching for God’s response, accepting God’s will and his desire that we grow in love for him.

    Second, I think we pray because God genuinely cares about us.  If we are to grow in love, we have to know that he is open to us and desires that we communicate our needs, our hopes, our fears, our deepest longings to him.  It’s not that he doesn’t know these things already, but the process of expressing them in prayer helps us to know those needs in deeper ways and helps us to be aware of God’s action in our lives.

    Third, I think we pray because that’s how we grow in holiness.  The more that we bind ourselves to God by receiving his mercy and grace and knowing his love for us in prayer, the more we become new people, new creations.

    The Psalmist reminds us today that “Our help is from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”  Every prayer may not be answered in our time and in the way that we’d like.  But by persisting in prayer, we will eventually and always become something better.

  • Saturday of the Twenty-second Week of Ordinary Time

    Saturday of the Twenty-second Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    The question Saint Paul asks the Corinthians in today’s first reading is a challenging one: what do you have that you have not received?  For us in a society steeped in entitlement, this question rings like an accusation.

    We may be justly proud of what we have learned and achieved and accomplished, because in attaining those things, we have used our gifts to their potential.  However, as Christians, we must never be overly inflated with pride in those things because we must always remember that we achieved them because God gave us the ability and the opportunity.  What do we have that we have not received?  What have we learned that God has not revealed?  What have we accomplished that God has not blessed?

    Very early in my priesthood, I was somewhat embarrassed when people would tell me how much a homily had touched them or how moved they were by the way I celebrated Mass.  I was very conscious of the fact that nothing I had done was done without God’s grace.  A brother priest told me he responded to those things by saying “praise God!” because that acknowledged that it was accomplished with God’s grace.

    Maybe that’s a good lesson for all of us.  When we are complimented for something we’ve done or accomplished, we may well be proud of it.  But we may also well be grateful for all God has done in us to bring us to that point.  In our gratitude and love for God, maybe we can all respond to those compliments, “praise God!”

  • The Twenty-first Sunday of Ordinary Time [C]

    The Twenty-first Sunday of Ordinary Time [C]

    Today’s readings

    In my last assignment, at St. Raphael in Naperville, there was a huge football program for elementary school kids called St. Raphael Football.  It was not just a team, but a league, and lots of surrounding churches had teams in the league.  You couldn’t live in Naperville and not have heard of St. Raphael Football.  So once in a while, in a social setting, someone would ask me what church I was from, and I’d tell them, St. Raphael.  And they would say to me, “Oh yes, we go there, our son is in that football league.”  I always wanted to tell them, “How nice.  By the way, we also celebrate the Eucharist there.”  Maybe I should have.  Today’s gospel reading makes me think I should.

    We – as a society – have it all wrong.  Our priorities are all messed up.  I think we’re in real danger, and today’s Liturgy of the Word is a wake-up call for us to get it right.  So this homily is probably going to come off sounding kind of harsh to some of you, but if I don’t say what I have to say, I’m not doing my job as your priest.  And I know, really I know, most of you get this.  So please indulge me; if this doesn’t apply to you, please pray for someone who needs to hear it, because you know someone who does.

    When Jesus is asked whether only a few will be saved, he deflects the question.  His answer indicates that it’s not the number of those who will be saved – that’s not the issue.  The issue is that some people think they will be saved because they call themselves Christian, or religious, or spiritual, or whatever.  It’s kind of like the people I talked to who considered themselves practicing Catholics simply because their children played in a football league that was marginally affiliated with us.

    Jesus says that’s not how it works.  We have to strive to enter the narrow gate.  So what does that mean?  For Jesus, entering eternity through the narrow gate means not just calling yourself religious; that would be a pretty wide gate.  The narrow gate means actually practicing the faith: living the gospel, reaching out to the needy, showing love to your neighbor.  It means making one’s faith the first priority, loving God first, worshipping first, loving others first.

    And it’s hard to do that.  Saint Paul says today that we have to strengthen our drooping hands and weak knees; Jesus says that many will attempt to enter that narrow gate but won’t be strong enough to do it.  That narrow gate of love is hard to enter: it takes effort, it takes grace; it takes strength, and we can only get that grace and strength in one place, and that place is the Church.  That’s why Jesus gives us the Church: to strengthen us for eternal life.

    That’s not the best news, however, because so many people these days settle for simply calling themselves religious, or being “spiritual” – whatever that means.  They’ll play football on the team, but won’t make an effort to come to Church to receive the strength they need to live this life and to enter eternal life.  It is here, in the Eucharist, freely given by our gracious Lord, that we receive the strength we need to love, the strength necessary to live our faith and be united with our God.  But it’s hard to get to Church because Billy has a soccer game, or Sally has a dance recital, or because Mom and Dad just want to sleep in.

    But those decisions have eternal consequences.  So let me be clear: God is more important than soccer, God is more important than the dance recital, and as for sleeping in on Sunday, well, there’s time to sleep when we’re dead, right?  And it’s not like it’s an either/or proposition: people don’t have to choose between soccer and Mass or dance and Mass or even sleeping and Mass.  This parish has Mass on Saturday and at least four, sometimes five Masses on Sunday.  There’s probably a church within a few driving minutes of every football or soccer field in the western suburbs; I know a lot of families choose to take that option when schedules are hectic.

    The point is, we make time for what’s important to us.  And eternal life is the only thing that we have of lasting importance.  So we have to build up the strength to get through that narrow gate one day.  We’ve got to worship God with consistency; we have to live the gospel with consistency.

    We’re not going to be able to say one day: “We ate and drank in your company and you taught in our streets and we played football on your team.”  We can’t just call ourselves Catholic; we have to live our faith.  We have to reach out to the needy, stand up for truth and justice, make a real effort to love even when it’s not convenient to love, or even when the person who faces us is not as loveable as we’d like.

    All of this requires commitment and effort and real work from all of us. We have to strive to enter through that narrow gate, because we don’t want to ever hear those bone-chilling words from today’s Gospel, “I do not know where you are from. Depart from me, you evildoers!” The good news is we don’t ever have to hear those words: all we have to do is nourish our relationship with Jesus that will give us strength to enter the narrow gate.  After all, the narrow gate is love, and the love of God in Jesus is more than enough to get us through it.

  • Thursday of the Nineteenth Week of Ordinary Time

    Thursday of the Nineteenth Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    One of the greatest sins there is, I think, is the sin of not letting go.  And, if we’re honest, I think we all do it, all the time.  I know I do.  Whether it’s an long-standing argument with a loved one, or a touch of road rage, or demanding what we think we’re entitled to have, we can be real good at holding on to things.  It’s pretty much the original sin: as soon as Adam and Eve found out they couldn’t have the forbidden fruit, they couldn’t let go of it until they had it.  The reason I think it’s the greatest sin is that this is the sin that doesn’t let God in: when we’re grasping on to things, we’re not reasonable; when we’re grasping on to things, we can’t let go and let God be God.

    Today’s Gospel parable is about the danger of not letting go.  The servant had no reason to expect his master to forgive his debt.  He had, in fact, run up that debt, and it was his to pay.  The problem is, he could never pay it.  The master had every reason to turn him over to be imprisoned for the rest of his life, or until he paid off the debt, whichever came first.  But the master was moved with pity and didn’t just give the servant more time to pay up, but instead he wrote off the debt in its entirety.

    One would think that the servant would be so overjoyed, that he would forgive others the same way.  But he isn’t.  He comes across a fellow servant who owed him a paltry sum, and hands him over to be imprisoned until he can pay the debt.  So naturally, the master finds out and revokes his own mercy.  If that servant had just let go of what he was holding on to, he would have been more than alright.  But he couldn’t do it.

    The debt we owe to God is ridiculously large; we’ll never be able to repay it.  But we don’t have to because through the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ, our debt has been forgiven.  In its entirety.  We can’t be like the wicked servant.  The joy that we have in celebrating our forgiveness in this Eucharist has to help us to let go of what we are hanging on to, or it’s no help to our salvation.

    Maybe we can pause today as we offer our gifts and offer to let go of something so that others can be set free too.

  • Friday of the Seventh Week of Easter

    Friday of the Seventh Week of Easter

    Today’s readings

    Jesus’ words to Peter in this Gospel reading are a mixture of comfort, challenge, and warning. Peter had just messed up in the worst way possible by denying his friend not once but three times. But then comes the question not once but three times: “Peter, do you love me?” This is comfort because with each asking, Jesus is healing Peter from the inside out.

    Then words of challenge: “Feed my sheep.” When we are forgiven or graced in any way, we, like Peter, are then challenged to do something about it. Feed my sheep, follow me, give me your life, come to know my grace in a deeper way.

    And then words of warning: “when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” When we give ourselves over to God, that necessarily means that we might have to go in a direction we might not otherwise choose.

    But then Jesus brings Peter back to comfort and healing once again by saying “Follow me.” No matter what we disciples have done in our past, no matter how many times we have messed up or in what ways, there is always forgiveness if we give ourselves over to our Savior and our friend.

  • Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Easter

    Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Easter

    Today’s readings

    Jesus tells us in the Gospel today that he did not “come to condemn the world but to save the world.”  His implication here is that being condemned is our choice.  God’s choice is that all of creation would come back to him, and be one in him.  It is us – sinful men and women that we are – who can choose the wrong path and turn away from God.  But even then, condemnation is not automatic because our God is incredibly forgiving.  We can choose to return, and once again walk with God.  We should never presume God’s mercy, but we have to do an awful lot of work to merit condemnation.  It seems to me that condemnation is just not worth the trouble; maybe we can instead put all that hard work into building up the Church and God’s people.  Why would we ever want anything else?