29 January 2021

Jesus and the Devil and Us....

This is my homily for the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Mark’s Gospel is different than Matthew and Luke. There is no account of Jesus’ birth, just the story of John the Baptist, the Baptism of Jesus, a bri


That’s quite a way to begin a public ministry: by casting out a devil. Jesus, we are told simply turns to the possessed man and says “Quiet!  Come out of him!” and the man has a convulsion and with a loud cry the spirit comes out of him.


Now, I’m afraid if Mark approached a modern screen writer with that script it might not make the cut. It lacks the dramatic appeal, the extended tension and the sudden surprises that modern horror films use to portray an exorcism.


There are four such films making the rounds on Netflix, Hulu and HBO now.  One is called The Vatican Tapes in which “a priest and two Vatican exorcists do battle with an ancient satanic force to save the soul of a young woman.” Then there’s The Evil Dead  in which “5 friends go to stay at a remote cabin only to accidentally release a bunch of demons from a book.” 


The third is Deliver us from Evil in which “a police officer encounters a frightening alternate reality when a renegade Jesuit priest (notice there’s always a renegade Jesuit priest in these movies?) convinces him that demonic possession may be to blame for the gruesome murders.”  And finally The Rite, in which a seminarian “reluctantly attends exorcism school at the Vatican. While he’s in Rome, he meets an unorthodox priest (I wonder if he’s a Jesuit) who introduces him to the darker side of his faith.”


Those of us who are a little older remember bring scared out of our wits by Peter Blatty’s The Exorcist, but the plot really hasn’t change much over the years. 


But what Jesus is doing in today’s Gospel is something more than starring in a fictional horror film. What Jesus is doing is real life. As real as the next sin I am tempted to commit, the grudge I am tempted to hold or the next war we are tempted to wage.


Since God created mankind in his own image and likeness, endowed with the free will to love or to sin, the world has been one long struggle between light and darkness, walking toward and alongside the Lord or walking away from and against him.


Eve and her husband chose to walk away from God, and that original sin was redeemed by the sacrifice of Calvary, as in a perfect sacrifice of love, the Son of the Living God offered his life to set us free from our original sinfulness.


But, as the Catechism reminds us, there is a bit more to the story, for, “behind the disobedient choice of our first parents lurks a seductive voice, opposed to God, which makes them fall into death out of envy.” The author of genesis depicts him as a snake in the grass, or perhaps in a tree. 


Another movie I remember from years ago depicts him as a little red man with horns and a long tail, whispering into my ear: “Go ahead!  Don’t worry!  It’ll be a lot of fun!”


He is the fallen angel who goes variously by the name of Satan or the devil. Like our first parents, this angel was originally made to be good, but with the free will God gave him, he and the other demons chose to reject God. Thus, does Saint John call him “a liar and the father of lies.”1 The Lord Jesus himself calls the devil “a murderer from the beginning.”2


The Prince of Darkness then, is far more frightening than any horror movie can portray, for he doesn’t just jump out from behind the door and make us scream, he tempts us to reject the God who made us: to choose selfishness instead of love, hate instead of mercy and myself instead of my brother or sister.


Yet Satan is far less powerful than the scary movies, for he is just a creature like us, and no match for the God who made him.


And while the darkness of this world, from selfishness to murder to pandemic sickness can all be traced back to the Devil and his minions, we are the sons and daughter of God, who made heaven and earth, whose only Son by the Power of his Precious Blood, shed for us upon the Altar of the Cross for our salvation,


Seven times does Jesus Exorcise demons in the Gospels, and each time it is by a simple command. “Come out of him!” “Get out of there!”  Be gone!” And the devil has no choice but to obey.


For, in the words of our beloved Pope emeritus, the Cross of Christ is the devil’s ruin. And while the powers of darkness may still tempt us to choose power or wealth, or pleasure over sacrifice, mercy and a holy life, we always have a choice. Or, again, in the words of Pope Benedict: 


Overcoming the temptation to subject God to oneself and one’s own interests…giving God first place, is a journey that each and every Christian must make over and over again. “Repent” is an invitation we [will soon] hear during Lent, it means following Jesus…; it means letting God transform us…It means recognizing that we are creatures, that we depend on God, on his love, and that only by “losing” our life in him can we gain it.


That’s not quite so scary as the latest horror movie, I’m afraid. But it’s real life, in which the powers of darkness and sin have nothing to offer us but a dead end of crippling selfishness. But you have been called to the freedom of the children of God!  And how blessed you are to be called to the supper of the Lamb!


_____________

1 - 1 John 3:8; John 8:44. Cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 392.

2 - John 8:44; cf. Matthew 4:1-11.

27 January 2021

A Hymn Sung by an Old Friend

Leo Nestor was a dear friend and an extraordinary musician. I will always treasure my memories of one of the most talented composers, conductors and teachers I have ever known, but more than anything else, I am consoled to remember him fondly as a great friend.

Leo died in 2019 and left behind a wonderful testament to his faith in the compositions he so brilliantly created. Back in 1998 Leo asked me to write the text for an Easter hymn he was preparing for the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. I just learned tonight that the hymn will soon be published as a part of a collection of his 49 hymns. Here is the text:

When first he showered grace within my mother’s womb,
Christ knew my heart, my face, and freed me from the gloom.
Then washed by water, in his blood,
he made this child a son like him,
both cleansed and freed by second flood. 

O undeserving grace which leads me to the tomb,
to rise to see his face, born of the Church’s womb;
Now one with Christ the Lord above
I rise from tombs of secret sin,
to gentle patience, mercy, love. 

I sing of Christ who gives what I can never take,
a grace that’s only his all pains and thirsts to slake.
Which bears all sorrows, fears and pain,
his presence makes my weakness strength
Till I shall rise with Christ again.

Leo served with me on the Committee which helped prepare the USCCB document Sing to the Lord: Music in Divine Worship. So when I think of him singing with the angels before the face of God tonight (he's probably conducting them!), I recall a line from paragraph 15 of that document:

Christ always invites us to enter into song, to rise above our own preoccupations, and to give our entire selves to the hymn of his Paschal Sacrifice for the honor and glory of the Most Blessed Trinity.

Sing well, Leo. Sing well.

23 January 2021

Memento mori on the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time


I think it was a Peter Seeger who used to sing a little ditty that went:

I get up each morning and gather my wits, 

I pick up the paper and read the obits. 

And if I’m not there, I know I’m not dead, 

so I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.


I never understood that song when I was younger, but now I live it.


You know, there were seventy-five obituaries in the Telegram this pasr week. A lot of them in their nineties, like Daniel and Christine and Barbara and Raymond and Jennie and Josephine and Dennis and Margaret… Still sad for their families, but they don’t jump out at you.


But then there are the other ones, the ones I notice a lot more since I turned 68. Like Johnny at 65 or Dan at 61 and Eric at 60 and Patricia, who the obituary said died after a brave fight with Covid at the age of 58. Those kinds get to me, but then there’s Chris, who died at 33 or Daryl, who had a heart attack at 41.  I tend to stop reading when I get to those.


That kind of an obituary is what is referred to as a memento mori, a reminder of death…and not just someone else’s death. My death. The kind we will speak indelicately about when we start Lent next month: “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”


It’s why the Roman Missal from which I pray at that altar has a Mass for the Grace of a Happy Death. I pray it much more lately than I ever did before. Here’s the opening Collect:


O God, who have created us in your image
and willed that your Son should undergo death for our sake, 

grant that those who call upon you
may be watchful in prayer at all times,
so that we may leave this world without stain of sin
and may merit to rest with joy in your merciful embrace. 


It’s a wise sentiment as old as the ancients, as the stoic philosopher Seneca once wrote: “Let us prepare our minds as if we’d come to the very end of life. Let us postpone nothing. Let us balance life’s books each day. … The one who puts the finishing touches on their life each day is never short of time.”


Perhaps you’ve heard of those Roman triumphs, when a great general would be rewarded for his victory by passing beneath an arch amidst the cheering throngs. But few noticed the soldier always positioned in the chariot right behind the general, and as the crowds grew louder he would shout into the general’s ear: “Respice post te. Hominem te esse memento. Memento mori!” Look behind you. Remember you are mortal. Remember you must die!


Social Security has a digitized memento mori conveniently included on their site at ssa.gov. It’s innocuously entitled a “life expectancy calculator,” and all it asks for is you gender and date of birth and with the click of the return key it informs me that I probably have 17.6 years left. Not 17.5 or 17.7, mind you, but 17.6. 


I should probably start planning.


Indeed….I probably should. For despite the Social Security Administration, Jesus tells me I will know not the day nor the hour, and, as Paul practically screams at the Corinthians: “I tell you, brothers and sisters, the time is running out…the world in its present form is passing away!”


He’s like a modern day Jonah, finally doing what the Lord told him to do (after getting thrown overboard, eaten by a whale and spat up on the land…but that’s another homily)…Jonah is walking through the streets of Ninevah yelling: “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be destroyed, “


He probably read too many obituaries. Or maybe he understood the message those obituaries teach: that life is too short and despite SSA.gov, we have no idea how short a time that will be.


Listen to Jesus at the beginning of his ministry, just before he calls his first disciples:


This is the time of fulfillment.

The kingdom of God is at hand.

Repent, [today!] and believe in the gospel.”


That’s why Simon and Andrew abandoned their nets and followed him. It’s why James and John left their father in the boat and followed him. Because there is a terrible urgency about the Kingdom of God, a Kingdom which is not about yesterday or tomorrow, so much as about today.


Because in Jesus, the Kingdom of God is at hand. The same Jesus who tells us: 


today, find the man without a coat and give him yours;


today, look for the one who is sick and comfort her;


today, seek our the stranger and welcome him home;


today, find the one who hurt you and forgive her;


today, pray, repent, read the scriptures…. go to Church.


Today! For you may not have a tomorrow. 


Today!  For the Kingdom of God is at hand!


But it’s so easy to forget the urgency of life amidst all the stuff that keeps me so busy, until I’m walking through the cemetery and come across that old gravestone…it’s hard to read the letters, worn out by the elements and the acid rain, but it has been saying the same thing since 1792: 


Remember me as you pass by

As you are now so once was I

As I am now you soon will be

Prepare yourself to follow me.


Today is the time! The Kingdom of God is at hand!

Pope Francis and the Gospel of Life

Delivered to a Morning of Recollection on the Gospel of Life, 23 January 2021.


In these late pandemic days, as we all become obsessed with the efficacy of new vaccines for COVID-19, I am reminded of the origin story of the first vaccine, the first antibiotic, penicillin.


The popular version of the story, of course, involves the Scottish researcher Alexander Fleming. Seems Dr. Fleming, who was doing research on flu viruses, returned from a two week vacation to find a plate of staphylococcus culture which he had mistakenly left on his workbench. In his absence, something had begun to grow on the glass petri dish, something which appeared to have killed the staphylococcus and was soon to become the first antibiotic, which he named penicillin.


But then, as Paul Harvey used to say, there’s the rest of the story. 


After publishing his discovery, Fleming abandoned penicillin, judging that it was just too difficult to produce in mass quantities.  


It was not until ten years later that his research was picked up and completed by Howard Flory and Ernst Chain, who injected mice with the antibiotic, which cured scarlet fever, meningitis, diphtheria and bacterial pneumonia. Today it is “the most widely used antibiotic in the world.”1


But what if Fleming had simply left penicillin on the shelf?  What if Flory and Chain had not brought their own insights to the problem? Well, the world would have been a very different place.


For first flush discoveries are by definition preliminary, foundational and incomplete.  No human being ever sees the full picture right away. And the best way to perfect something is for a second set of eyes to get involved.


That’s because each of us has our own unique history, with our individual strengths and weaknesses and our own way of looking at things. And no one of us have the last word…just the latest word, awaiting the refinement of future generations.


So it is with the Gospel of Life. The great work of Pope Saint John Paul II in writing his Encyclical Letter Evangelium Vitae would not have been possible without Pope Pius XII’s 1945 Gratissimam sane, the Second Vatican Council’s Gaudium et Spes, and Pope Saint Paul VI’s Encyclical letter Humanae Vitae. Each Pope’s proclamation of the Gospel, then, is built on the foundation of his predecessors, brick by brick.


For not only is each pope a different person, each is called to speak to a different world than his predecessor knew. And so it is with Pope Francis.


The context of life for JPII and Francis could not be more different. 



Karol Józef WojtyÅ‚a’s mother died when he was nine. A strong Polish patriot, he became an accomplished philosopher, a linguist and an actor. By the age of twenty had lost his mother, his father and his brother and was, in a real sense, all alone. His world view was formed by the rise of Nazism and after it communism. Reamarkably, he was ordained a Bishop at 38, made a Cardinal at 47 and become Pope at 58.


Jorge Mario Bergoglio, born 16 years after Wojtyła, could not have been more different,. There were five kids in his big Italian family. He grew up in Argentina and worked as a chemist, a janitor and a bouncer in a bar. At 21 he had half a lung removed and became the following year joined the Jesuits. Bishop at 56, a Cardinal at 65 and pope at 77, he reached each of those ministries at an age nearly twenty years older than his saintly predecessor.


Pope John Paul II was an academic who saw the world through the lens of the Second World War and Poland’s struggle with communism. Pope Francis is a practical Jesuit who spent most o his life working with the poor, living a polarized world intoxicated by digital data.


But the one thing that makes them both the same is their dedication to the Gospel of Life, seen albeit through the lens of their times.


Which is why I am equally amused and dismayed by a media which portrays Popes Francis and John Paul II as believing different things. In the words of Pope Francis, both are Catholic and both simply believe what the Church teaches.


Listen, for example to these words of Pope Francis, which could have as easily come from the pen of Pope Saint John Paul II; 


Our defense of the innocent unborn…needs to be clear, firm and passionate, for at stake is the dignity of a human life, which is always sacred and demands love for each person, regardless of his or her stage of development.2


Another example: Last November 22nd, on the occasion of the recent and tragic liberalization of Argentinean abortion laws, Pope Francis sent a handwritten note to a group of women working to defeat the law, asking in regard to abortion: “Is it fair to eliminate a human life to resolve a problem? Is it fair to hire a hitman to resolve a problem?”3


And again: 


I cannot stay silent over 30 to 40 million unborn lives cast aside every year through abortion. It is painful to behold how in many regions that see themselves as developed the practice is often urged because the children to come are disabled, or unplanned. Human life is never a burden. It demands we make space for it, not cast it off. ... Abortion is a grave injustice. It can never be a legitimate expression of autonomy and power. If our autonomy demands the death of another, it is none more than an iron cage.4


Like his Polish predecessor, Pope Francis’ disdain for abortion is closely connected to his love for the mothers this act so deeply wounds. Once, reflecting on how to care for a mother who has repented of aborting her child, the Holy Father recalled: 


“The problem is not in giving forgiveness, the problem is in accompanying a woman who has come to the realization she has had an abortion. …Because many times – indeed always – they have to meet with their child. And many times, when they cry and have this anguish, I counsel them: ‘Your child is in heaven, talk to him, sing him the lullaby that you did not sing, that you could not sing to him.’ And there is found a way of reconciliation for the mother with her child. With God it’s already there: it’s God’s forgiveness. God always forgives. But mercy also means that she needs to work this through.”5


From the child unjustly killed to the mother who mourns him, Pope Francis’ love for human life extends to all whose dignity is disrespected by an uncaring world. I return to his words: 


“Equally sacred…are the lives of the poor, those already born, the destitute, the abandoned and the underprivileged, the vulnerable infirm and elderly exposed to covert euthanasia, the victims of human trafficking, new forms of slavery, and every form of rejection.”6


But why, Pope Francis has asked repeatedly, why do we neglect such persons? Why do we fail to appreciate their inherent, and irreducible value?


It is, he suggests, because we fail to see them as persons. Rather, we mistake them them as things to be used, traded and disposed of when they become inconvenient or burdensome.


Such a throwaway culture, the Pope suggests fosters 


“a mentality in which everything has a price, everything can be bought, everything is negotiable…[and makes] room for only a select few, while it discards all those who are unproductive.”  Such a mentality reduces a person to a “a mere product in a marketplace which can be discarded as so much trash.”7


So how do we combat such a culture of death, a culture which reduces people to products to be bought and sold and disposed of for our own convenience?


The antidote, the Holy Father proposes, is what he calls a “Culture of Encounter.”


In such a culture, each and every person is treated with a deep and profound respect, with humility and love. It is not enough to lecture the world on what is right, the holy Father suggests, as if I were the perfect person and all they need to do is to be perfect like me!  It is not enough to just yell at the world: “Don’t do that….be perfect like me!”


No, I must see in each person I meet, and especially in those whom I find hard to love, the presence of Christ and I must love and respect and be humbled by their presence. In the poor and the prisoner, in the one who constantly contradicts me and who tries to cast me as their enemy…in them I must see Christ, in them I must, as the Pope prescribes “seek above all else to love them no matter how troublesome or inconvenient they may be.”8


For it is only by such a face-to-face encounter with others that we can dismantle the structures of disrespect and discord which so burden out world.


Such humble love and respect accomplishes so much more than enacting laws or donating money or publishing books. For it is only the physical presence of the other which changes us and, again to quote the Pope, “challenges us, with their pain and their pleas, with their joy which infects us in our close and continuous interaction.”9


From such personal encounters grows a love of all who are marginalized, monetized and forgotten. Such a personal encounter, again in the Holy Father’s words, leads us to hearts which ache for: 


“vulnerable children on the pavements of a large city, at the bottom of a boat overladen with immigrants; children who are not allowed to be born, who cry because no one satisfies their hunger with no toys in their hands, but weapons, victims of war, abortion and poverty.”10


Thus, the Holy Father calls us to begin to live the Gospel of Life by extinguishing hatred and violence in our own hearts, before we seek to cure the hearts of others. Listen to what he says about the landscape of cyberspace: 


“Even Christians can be caught up in networks of verbal violence through the internet and the various forums of digital communication. Even in Catholic media, limits can be overstepped ... and all ethical standards and respect for the good name of others can be abandoned…Here we see how the unguarded tongue, set on fire by hell, sets all things ablaze.”11


The disciple of the Gospel of life, then, must be dedicated to a “consistent ethic of life,” and must also be a disciple of a Gospel of Reconciliation, which seeks to evangelize not by force, but by love, calling us to “confront every form of polarization which would divide…”12


This is how Pope Francis, like Pope Saint John Paul II before him, proclaims the Gospel of Life from his own experience and to his own world, teaching us that along with the need for just nations, just laws and just societies, freed from the corruption of using others, along with promoting a common recognition of the dignity of each human person from conception to natural death, we must strive to recognize the infinite dignity of the human person standing right in front of me, the one whom God has put into my life.


Such a Gospel of Life is not primarily political, although it is rightly committed to political ends. Nor is it primarily theoretical, although it is grounded in a philosophical and theological system.


Rather, as Pope Francis teaches us, the Gospel of Life is profoundly personal and it calls us to love like Jesus. For it is only with the language of love that the Gospel can be proclaimed and understood.


Allow me to conclude with some of the most beautiful words our Holy Father ever spoke in this regard.


“Love for the other cannot be reserved for exceptional moments, but must be constant in our lives. That is why we are called, for example, to safeguard the elderly like a precious treasure and with love even if they cause economic difficulties and inconveniences, but we must protect them. This is why we must give all the assistance possible to the sick, even in the final stages of their lives. This is why unborn children are always to be welcomed; this is why, ultimately, life is always to be protected and loved, from conception to its natural end. And this is love.”13


_______


1 - https://www.healio.com/news/endocrinology/20120325/penicillin-an-accidental-discovery-changed-the-course-of-medicine


2 - Pope Francis, Gaudete et Exultate, no. 101.


3 - Pope Francis, 22 November 2020.


4 - Pope Francis, Let Us Dream, page 115. November 28, 2020.


5 - Pope Francis. 27 January 2019.


6 - Pope Francis, Gaudete et Exultate, no. 101.


7 - Pope Francis, July 13, 2015.


8 - Pope Francis, October 20, 2017.


9 - Pope Francis, Evangelium Gaudium, no. 88.


10 - Pope Francis, 29 March, 2019.


11 - Pope Francis, 18 April 2019.


12 - Pope Francis to U.S. Congress, September 25, 2015.


13 - Pope Francis, 6 May 2018.








02 January 2021

Following a light in the darkness

I’ve never been more terrified.  Every three year old knows how I felt…pulling the covers up to my neck in hopes that the witch and the monster I could hear in the closet were going to carry me away or eat me or make me scream.  And while they always went away in the morning, when the light came on, in the dark they always had the advantage.

Like when I was young priest, standing by the bed of the old man who was not going gently into that good night.  Actually, he was cursing and swearing at everything with a vehemence as scary and as loud, as it was desperate.  And I stood petrified, as I stared in the face of pure darkness and trembled before shouts of renunciation, professions of faithlessness, and an abject rejection of God.  It had never seemed so dark.


Except when I met the guy whose wife asked him for a divorce and told him she didn’t love him anymore.  He tried to reason that it was their son’s addiction, or their daughter’s unwed pregnancy, but he knew the darkness that was destroying their marriage was somehow leaking out of his own heart.  He’d stopped praying a long time ago and only went to Church when there were lilies or poinsettias.  He’d thought he plotted his own path for so long, but now he was lost in the dark, the dark that was in front and behind and beneath and all around him.  Lost in the dark.


Like a magus (singular of magi), wandering over hill and dale with all those camels and gifts, lost in the middle of the night.  All six of them: Gaspar, Melchior, Balthazar, the guy with the broken marriage, the young priest and the kid with the closet…all wandering through the dark night of the soul, looking for the star that rises in the East, for the morning star of our salvation and the refulgence of the Father’s glory.


Their journey to the manger in Bethlehem was what our beloved Pope emeritus called the “beginning of a great procession which winds throughout history.”1


 It is our procession, through all the dark nights of our lives: a never ending struggle between the dark deceptions of Satan, with all his pomps and phantasms and the blinding love of God who rises in the East with healing in his wings.


So, listen to me, every little kid afraid of the dark: you never have to be afraid, ever again!  For the Baby Jesus, who was born for you in the manger has destroyed all the monsters and witches and banished the darkness in which they hid.  Never again need you be afraid of the dark, for it is ever but a prelude to the coming of his light and the fullness of his glory.


Listen to me, every old man on the brink of death: you never have to be afraid ever again!  For he who was born in a manger in the shadow of a cross upon which he offered his last breath for your salvation, in his dying has destroyed all death. And he has promised that those who eat his Body and drink his Blood will never really die at all, but will rise with him to eternal life.


And listen to me, you who are so lost in the dark that you cannot find your way, I say: you never have to be afraid, ever again!  Follow the Magi in this great procession of humanity to Jesus Christ, to the God who was born in a stable, who died on the Cross and who, having risen from the dead, remains with us always, until the consummation of the world.” Follow him and him alone and you will know the peace the world cannot give, until you come to love in perfect light with him who the light for ever.


“Arise, shine; for your light has come, 

and the glory of the Lord 

has risen upon you.”3

_________________________________________


1 - Pope Benedict XVI, Epiphany Homily, 2013.


2 - Pope Benedict XVI, Epiphany Homily, 2012; cf. Mt 28:20.


3 - Isaiah 60:1.