Paul said, "God is not far from any of us, for in him we live and move and have our being."




Our first reading from the Acts of the Apostles and our Gospel from Chapter Sixteen of John’s Gospel are both tremendously important to us.

In the first reading Paul seems to be seeing Athens for the first time. As a tourist, he wandered the streets, on every corner seeing a shrine to some foreign god the sailors have brought back with them from distant ports. He fell in with a group having one of the philosophic conversations so common in Athens, and they brought him to an amphitheater where any speaker with a message was allowed to speak.

Paul commented on the many gods honored in Athens, then, he mentioned one altar dedicated to an “Unknown God.” He used that peculiarity as a way of introducing the Creator of heaven and earth. Saying of him, “He is not far from any one of us. For, in him we live and move and have our being.”

Throughout the Old Testament God was seen as being locked away in his heaven far above us. What Paul said to the Athenians was revolutionary and it is most wonderful for us to think on.

Let me briefly mention a line from the Gospel.  After the Last Supper, in his final words to the Apostles Jesus said, “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now. But when he comes, the Spirit of truth, he will guide you to all truth.”

Jesus spoke of things the Apostles could not bear to hear at that time. That could refer to the right solution to questions that would arise in the future. They would be questions that would arise as a result of future twists and turns that the Apostles had no way of knowing in advance. When they would be confronted with unexpected problems they would need to come together, depending on the Holy Spirit to lead them to the right decisions. These words of Jesus prepared the way for the great Ecumenical Councils at which through the centuries the Church received the guidance of the Spirit to handle difficulties.

In imagination we accompany Mary on her visit to Elizabeth.


Tuesday, 5/31/11

Today’s Feast of the Visitation invites us to take an imaginary foot journey. We are to accompany Mary over hilly paths the length of the country.  We might want to  share her thoughts. Do we think that as a country girl Mary had so many times witnessed the birth of animals that even human birth no longer seemed miraculous to her? Or did she still see childbirth as God’s most miraculous trick?

Should we imagine that Mary had assisted at births, and at seeing a child emerge, she had gasped for breath. Could she have been like an inexperienced American girl who might wonder how an infant was able to survive in a confinement that offered not a breath of air?

Was Mary worrying about Elizabeth? Did she have her own ideas about how to go about assisting a very old lady in her confinement?

After arriving there, how do you think Mary felt about it when she heard an older lady addressing
her as the mother of her Lord?

I wonder, did the infant in her womb leap as well?

This story makes us feel like we were part of Paul's little company.



Our first reading from the Acts of the Apostles is one of those passages that makes us feel at home in the Church. It makes us feel we are part of the group that followed Paul outside the city of Phillipi. Along with them we walk along the river looking for a suitable place for prayer; and we happen upon Lydia and the others who had found the ideal spot ahead of us. Luke identified them as worshippers of God, which was what they called non-Jews who accepted the Prophets and who lived by the Ten Commandments.

Lydia was described as a dealer in purple cloth come from Thyatira. A century ago some scholars pointed out that since purple dye comes from squid, and since Thyatira was an inland town, there had never been any dealing in purple there, and Luke’s story was a fiction.. They used those facts to discredit the whole narrative of the Acts of the Apostles. Since then it has come to light that in Paul’s time the place name Thyatira belonged to an Aegean island that did a thriving business in purple dyes.  

Lydia insisted that Paul and his companions accept her hospitality while they met with people in Phillipi. Paul, who always supported himself and his team by plying his trade of tent making, gave in just this one time to an insistence that he accept hospitality. Ever afterwards Phillipi had a special place in his heart.

Are we always ready to give an explanation of what we believe in as Christians?



In our Second Reading St. Peter tells us, “Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope.” That is telling us we should have a thorough knowledge of our religion.

A few weeks ago newspapers gave space to a survey taken on Christians’ knowledge of their religion. I don’t have a copy of the questions and the results, but I do remember that as a whole we were found to be stunningly ignorant.

My first twelve years in the priesthood that I spent in Korea have inclined me to see that ignorance as a major cause for worry. Over there we missionaries put all our emphasis on the need for Catholics to know their religion. In the spring before Easter every Catholic was made to come before the priest to be quizzed on the catechism. Children had to know twelve catechism answers. Old people had to know sixty, and everyone in between was responsible for answering a hundred and sixty questions similar to what Americans used to have in their Baltimore Catechisms. 

That was good in its way, but it was lopsided, because there is more to being Christians than being able to rattle off catechism answers. 

I was much taken with Avery Dulles’s book Models of the Church. He showed how Jesus came to us in five distinct roles.  He was servant, friend, teacher, shepherd, and way to the Father.  Dulles then said that if we are to carry on Christ’s mission, we must engage in those same roles. To be just teachers, the way we were in Korea, was wrong. To be just servants to the poor the way Liberation Theology would have us carry on, or to engage in hug-arounds with Pentecostals is not enough. To have a one on one relationship with God with no mixing with people is wrong too.

To see where you stand as a Christian you should check yourself on five matters. Do you know your religion? Do you love your neighbor? Do you go to the Father in prayer? Do you serve the needs of the poor? Do you honor church authority?  

Christianity's move from Asia to Europe prepares it for a move to Africa and points south.


Two incidents in the first reading are worth looking into. One is Paul’s having Timothy circumcised, the other is Paul and his companions seeking passage to Macedonia.
Paul’s decision to have Timothy circumcised is of interest in that Paul had already declared that circumcision had become a meaningless ritual. One would think that on principle he would refuse to have Timothy go through with it. But, “on account of the Jews of that region, Paul had him circumcised.” That decision of his tells us we should sometimes go along with meaningless activities to please people who do not see things the way we do. We can’t always stand on principle.
Next: the matter of Paul and his companions seeking passage to Macedonia. It is noteworthy in that it puts an end to Christianity being an exclusively Asian religion, opening it to becoming something of a European religion. That transition is of interest to us now because Christianity is ending its exclusive run with Europe and the States. It is opening itself to becoming a world religion.
Early in the Twentieth Century eighty-five percent of Christians were Europeans. That had the English Catholic Hilaire Belloc writing, “Europe is Christianity, and Christianity is Europe.” Now, at the beginning of the Twenty-First Century the ratio is reversed: and eighty-five percent of Christians are outside of Europe.
The embrace of Christianity by Africa and much of the Southern Hemisphere is History’s way of telling us that it is impractical for us to force European rituals on peoples who are happier with ways of doing things that are natural to them.

Our Lord's new commandment at the Last Supper was an essential part of the New Covenant.


At the Last Supper when Jesus said, “This is my commandment.” He said that as part of his instituting the New Covenant. And, he was echoing what happened with Moses at Mount Sinai.  Let’s look back at that.
In Chapter Nineteen of Exodus God told Moses to ask the people if they wished to enter a covenant with him, and they all said they wanted it. In the next chapter, after he had told Moses to gather the people before the mountain, God set Mt. Sinai  rumbling and smoking, scaring the people half to death. He was preparing them to abide by the covenant by first putting the fear of God in them.
Then, in Exodus 24 God had Moses once again assemble the people before the mountain, this time to ratify the covenant.
In the covenant God would become one with the people, and the people would become one with God. Now, since there was no way that God could become like them, for the two parties to be united they would need to become like him. Moses led them through the process by which that union could be brought about. He shouted out the Commandments one at a time, waiting for them to agree to each.
At the same time that they were agreeing to keep the commandments, young men carrying big brass bowls of cattle blood were circulating through the crowd, sprinkling all the people with blood, then pouring what was left on God’s altar. The Jews, feeling that blood was life itself, believed that the life force in the sprinkled blood and the blood poured on God’s altar was leaping over the open spaces to join the people and God into one living People of God.
At the Last Supper after Jesus had given the cup to the Apostles to make of them one people with him, he announced not the Ten Commandments, but his one commandment they would need to observe for them to become like him. He said, “This is my commandment: love one another as I have loved you. 

Philip Neri was a prayerful, studious, humorous saint.


Today is the feast of Philip Neri, an interesting saint. He was born in Florence Italy in 1515 (the year when Martin Luther, a Catholic priests teaching a course on Paul’s Letter to the Romans, begin saying we need only faith to be saved.) Philip’s family set him up with a prosperous business, but he ran away to Rome so that he could lose himself in studying. Although he gained a mastery of Theology and the Bible, he refused ordination to the priesthood. He wanted to be free for visiting sick people, and for welcoming scholarly minded men for discussions in his rooms.
Persuaded at thirty-four to accept ordination, he continued with daily discussions with people eager for learning. Many men who were later canonized as saints enjoyed afternoons with Philip. There was Ignatius of Loyola, Charles Borromeo, Francis DeSales, and Giovanni Palestrina. That last man composed sacred music which the Church cherishes along with its Gregorian Chant. Philip came to be known as the Apostle of Rome, and without his attending the Council of Trent, he was credited with contributing much of value.
Philip hated fame so much that he pulled silly tricks to get people to think ill of him. He took to carrying a monkey around on his shoulder to get people to scorn him. Still, his faith was so deep that in saying Mass he was often carried away, and people came to stare at the saint. This had him training altar boys to tug on his vestments and ring the bell when his praying took him away.
Some of the high living Renaissance popes were ready to think Philip strange, but eventually they came to recognize his worth.  In imitation of his lodgings in Rome houses of prayer and study were set up all over Europe. His followers came to recognized as Oratory priests. St. John Newman and many scholarly men today follow Philip’s example of serious prayer, study and discussions.

Today's readings present the Church as a democratic assembly.


Today’s readings present the Church as a democratic assembly rather than as a top-down organization.
The first reading tells how believers in Antioch were divided over the question of the need for Gentile converts to observe kosher. They selected Paul and Barnabas to represent them at a meeting in Jerusalem for ironing the matter out. Verse 3 of Chapter 15 says, “They were sent on their journey by the Church.” Paul and Barnabas were not deciding on the course to be taken. No, the people were sending them. Then, the Greek word they used for “Church” was interesting. It was ecclesias. The word literally means “those called out.” It was the word used in fully democratic cities like Athens. There, all citizens were “called out” to vote on matters of concern to all. It is interesting that the early Church was open.
Then, John in his Gospel uses a democratic image for the church. The images St. Paul used each had a major role for the leaders. Like, he compared the organization we call the church to a church building in which Jesus is the roof, we are the bricks,  and the leaders are the foundation. Then, in his body image Jesus is the head, we are the cells, and the leaders are the nerves and tendons. In John’s image Jesus is the vine and we are the branches, with no leaders in between, dolling out their sap.  

Paul and Barnabas appointed presbyters for the towns they had preached in.


On St. Paul’s first missionary journey he and Barnabas met first with Jews and then Gentiles in four towns in what is now central Turkey. They preached, then baptized in Antioch, Iconium, Lysta and Derbe, then they retraced their steps. In each town on their way back they took note of men with leadership qualities who had been faithful to their Christian teaching. They appointed these men to be presbyters. Many Bibles translate this as saying they appointed elders, but we are right in saying they appointed them as priests, because our word priest is just a contraction of the word presbyter.
Our first Christians had priests before they had bishops. Our word bishop is the contraction of the Greek word for an overseer. The word was epi-scope. With people saying it over and over the p sound became a b sound, and the sc sound became an sh sound, and the word bishop emerged. When a town had a number of presbyters one of them came to be seen as the overseer or bishop.
When we look at the derivation of the word presbyter we get an idea of how priests should behave. The core syllable of the word presbyter is byt, and that was an Indo-European word for an ox. When we prefix pre to byt what we get is the “lead ox.” That tells us that a priest should not conduct himself like the master perched on the wagon, swinging his whip. Rather, he should be the lead ox, out there in front, pulling the heavy load, teaching young oxen how to get on by not fighting back.

After the Last Supper Jesus told the Apostles that the Holy Spirit would guide them through ages to come.


In the long warm talk Jesus had with the Apostles after the Last Supper he said, “The Holy Spirit whom the Father will send in my name will teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you.”  A little further on he came back to that subject saying, “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now; but when he comes, the Spirit of Truth, he will guide you to all truth.”
A dozen years later the Apostles remembered those words when they came up against a problem for which Jesus had not prepared them. The problem was that they and Jesus had always been Jews eating only kosher food, but suddenly they were confronted with pagans who wanted to become Christians without becoming Jews. They recognized this as one of those situations for which Jesus had not given them any direction because he knew that back then they would not have been able to understand.
So they started telling each other that the Holy Spirit would show them the right way to deal with non-Jewish Christians, and to avail themselves of his direction, they saw they had better come together. We read about that in Chapter Fifteen of the Acts of the Apostles. In our Bible the heading for that chapter is Council of Jerusalem.
At the end of the Council of Jerusalem they said that Gentile converts were free to eat foods Jews couldn’t eat. They wrote, “It is the decision of the holy Spirit and us not to place on you any burden.”
In twenty general councils over two thousand years the Church has depended on the Holy Spirit to lead them to the right way for dealing with unexpected difficulties. At the Second Vatican Council forty years ago bishops pleaded with the Holy Spirit to show them how they had to behave in a modern world.

We are God's New Chosen People


In the Second Reading St. Peter addressed us Christians, saying, “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a people God has set apart.” 
I hope you recognize that quotation. It is what God said to Moses in Exodus Nineteen when he proposed making the Jews his Chosen People. He said that if they entered into that covenant with God they would be his Chosen People. So, by repeating those words Peter was telling us we are God’s new Chosen People.
In calling us God’s chosen people Peter was not only saying that we all have a deep relationship with God. He was also saying that as one people, we have a deep relationship with each other, and with all Christians. When you attend the same Mass year in and year out you begin feeling kinship with the other people there, even though you never talk.
That notion of us Christians being one people was repeatedly brought home to me by an old man in Korea. Domingo’s only clothing was his traditional baggy white pants and knee length white smock. He had a one-room house by the sea, and his only reading material was the Korean version of Cardinal Gibbon’s book “Faith of Our Fathers.” John Chang, who followed Syngman Rhee as Korean president, had written his Korean version of Faith of Our Fathers when he was a student in the States. In Korean he called it Kyo-puteri Shinang.
Domingo had made his living weaving stiff pony tail hairs into those hats Korean gentlemen wore to protect their top knots. Unfortunately all of the right kind of ponies were in North Korea, so Domingo’s livelihood sagged after the South was cut off from the North. He occupied himself making sieves for grain.
Domingo wasn’t much of a talker, but anytime I was in conversation with him he would bring up the matter of our brother and sister Catholics in the States, asking what they thought about things. More than anyone else I have ever known, Domingo saw us as one family: a “chosen people, a royal race.”
 One place where that kinship comes up is in our Baptism ceremony. After we pour the water on the children or adults we anoint them with chrism, telling them that since they have been Baptized into Christ Jesus, they have become genuine sharers in his kingship, in his priesthood, and his prophetic ministry

A sacrament is anything that puts us in contact with God. In saying, "Anyone who sees me sees the Father" Jesus is declaring himself to be the perfect sacrament.


Vatican II changed our way of looking at many things. We resented many of the changes, but now most have sunk in, and many seem right to us.
One thing I didn’t like hearing in the beginning was the way they referred to Jesus as God’s sacrament. There had always been seven sacraments, and I didn’t like these new people making changes with that. But that has become another change that I have learned to appreciate. My approval goes along with a new, clear definition that has come along. The scholars are telling us that a sacrament is anything that puts you in contact with God.
So, the Seven Sacraments are only sacraments for us if they put us in contact with God. Like, if you go up to Communion planning your breakfast, then on your way back to your pew you are looking at what people are wearing. If you never once make contact with God, then it isn’t a true sacrament for you. On the other hand, if the beautiful clouds these spring days lift your thoughts to God, then the clouds are sacraments for you. 
Turning to today’s Gospel, we see how Jesus is the perfect sacrament. Jesus said, “I am in the Father is in me.” And, “Whoever sees me has seen the Father.”
We rightly think of God as the mystery of mysteries. He is too high above us for us to comprehend.  I like expressing the difference between God and myself with the image of a very small bug crawling around in my hair, trying to understand his surroundings. He might think he has an awareness of the scalp beneath him, while in fact he has no grasp of the thoughts, feelings, old song lyrics that are pulsating beneath his little feet and feelers.
Jesus makes God understandable for us by showing us how God would act were he human. In him, more than anywhere else we have the great sacrament in which we can actually come in contact with God.

Our sharing in the paschal Mystery comes about when we join Christ in the final stage of the Passover story. With him we pass through death, entering the Promised Land.


In almost every Mass since Easter we have asked for a share in Christ’s Paschal Mystery.
The Hebrew word for the Passover was Pasch. So, the Paschal Mystery has something to do with the Passover. But, we are not asking for a share in the sit-down meal they called the Passover. No, we are asking for a share in what the Church calls the Paschal Mystery. 
What is Christ’s Paschal Mystery?
To learn the answer to that we must first understand that for the Jews the term Passover was applied to much beyond that meal. It described the passing over the Red Sea. It included the forty years of passing over the pathless Sinai desert. But, most importantly, it described their passing over the Jordan into the Promised Land.
Now, I hope I am not being too confusing here, but this month we are following St. John’s Gospel that repeatedly brings out ways in which we are following those stages of the Passover. John presented Jesus’ Baptism as a symbolic echo of the Israelite passing through the Red Sea. His forty days in the desert were a miniature version of the forty years in the Sinai. Most importantly, his passing through death echoes that long ago passage through the Jordan into the Promised Land.
In today’s Gospel where Jesus said there are many dwelling places in his Father’s house, he was repeating what happened in Deuteronomy where Moses had divided the land the people were to occupy into portions for all the tribes. In saying that he was going to prepare a place for his followers Jesus repeated what Moses did in mapping out places for the twelve tribes in the Promised Land.

What might you say and do to bring non-believers around to the Faith?


In the First Reading we read what Paul said when he stood up in the synagogue in the city of Antioch in central Turkey. He was talking to devout Jewish people who had never heard of Jesus. In twenty-five lines of our reading he reviewed Jewish history, explaining how it all led up to Jesus. His hearers were impressed by his honest, impassioned speaking.
Since you believe in Jesus, and since that belief has brought happiness into your life, how would you go about convincing non-believers that they would be happy if they accepted Christ?
You could not use Paul’s arguments from Jewish history. What would you emphasize? Would you give an historical explanation that began with the life and death of Jesus, going on to describing the way the faith took root everywhere?  
Would you combine two tactics by giving them some reading material while seriously praying for them?
Would you communicate to them the happiness and peace you and your family have had as Catholics? Just how would you instill in them a desire to share in your secret? What about saint stories and miracle stories?
Have you been instrumental in bringing people to the faith? Have you a method the rest of us could learn from?

As the lightof the world Jesus is the source of all our energy, physical and mental.


In the Gospel we read that Jesus declared, “I came into the world as light.”  The word Light appears over 250 times in the Bible and two thirds of the time it is used metaphorically as we read in Ephesians, 5:9:
“Light produces every kind of goodness, righteousness and truth.”
In the first chapter of John’s Gospel the image of light stands for something more than goodness, righteousness and truth. It stands for the source of energy that sets our world and our minds in motion.
Let me back up that assertion. In several ways John let us know that he meant Chapter One of his Gospel to echo Chapter One of Genesis. He opened his account with the same three words: “In the beginning.” Then, if you check his narrative you will see that it follows Jesus through the first six days of his public life. Scholars refer to John’s first chapter as the “New Creation Story.”
In comparing John’s Chapter One to Chapter One of Genesis we can say that while Genesis tells us that God created all things, John’s Gospel tells us something about how God created all things.
In verse three of the great prologue to his Gospel John tells us that God’s Word, the Second Person of the Trimnity, served as the model for humanity:
“All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be.”
Then, in that same verse 3 John told us that the Word not only served as the template for his creations, but the Word also set it all in motion. 
“What came to be through him was life, and the life was the light of the human race.”

The congenial Barnabus chose the sharp speaking Paul as his sidekick.


 In the first reading the Apostles in Jerusalem heard that non-Jews up in Antioch were asking to be accepted as Christians. This was completely unexpected, since it had only been Jews who had followed Christ. It was like it would be for us if we heard that a group of Protestants while remaining Protestants had asked to join the Knights of Columbus.
They chose St. Mark’s uncle Barnabas to go up and help those people to become Christians. An earlier chapter in the Acts of the Apostles that had mentioned Barnabas told us that his real name was Joseph. He was such an affirming man that Barnabas, “Son of Encouragement,” was give t him as a nickname. Evidently they chose Barnabas to deal with those outsiders knowing that his non-demanding ways would put the converts at ease.
They were right in that. Today’s passage tells us that on meeting those Gentiles Barnabas had “encouraged them all.” (The origin of our word encourage is interesting: it means to put heart in someone who is uncertain.)
Having sized up the task he was faced with, Barnabas saw the need of a strong partner, and that need sent him up to the town of Tarsus where Saul had retired to meditate on the Faith. (In his Letter to the Galatians Paul wrote that when Barnabas sought him out fourteen years had elapsed since Christ had appeared to him on the road to Damascus.)
No one would have guessed that this unlikely pair would have come together to bring the Faith to the Gentile world.

Since Jesus is the true shepherd, we can only be real leaders if his voice can be heard in ours.


Yesterday I drew your attention to the way John, in Chapter Ten of his Gospel, wove two parables into one. In the parable yesterday’s Gospel highlighted Jesus compared himself to the gate of a sheepfold. A sheepfold was a corral where ten or more families would pen up their little flocks together at night. Each night the shepherd boy from one of the families would keep guard in the gateway, allowing only other true shepherds to come in for sheep. That guard himself was known as the gate. In calling himself the gate Jesus was saying that any parent or teacher who took charge of children would need to tend his sheep knowing that really they belong to the Lord.
Today we have the better known of the two parables. It is the Parable of the Good Shepherd.
 A wonderful thing about a shepherd boy back then was that his sheep recognized his voice, and no other. They would follow their own shepherd’s voice, while they couldn’t even hear a stranger’s voice. In the morning when a boy came to the gate he would make a sound that only his sheep could recognize. They’d get up and follow him, while the others slept on.
Our Father Dan Logan kept sheep at home in Ireland, and he always followed them with a stick, urging them on. So, when he got to take a trip to the Holy Land he  wanted to get out into the hills to see if sheep there actually followed the voice of their. To his surprise they did.
Since Jesus calls himself the real shepherd we, as priests or parents or teachers,  can only be true leaders if  the voice of Jesus can be heard in our words.

In callng himself "the gate" Jesus was telling teachers, parents and supervisors of every sort that in leading their charge out they cannot avoid his rules with immoral shotcuts.


In Chapter Ten of his Gospel St. John gave us Our Lord’s wonderful parable of “The Good Shepherd.” At the same time, entwined with it, St. John gave us a quite different one of Our Lord’s parables. It is the one in which he said,  “I am the gate for the sheep.” Today our task is to get a hold on the parable of the gate.
We must begin by getting a clear picture of such a sheepfold.
A town like Bethlehem might have a dozen families that kept sheep, and each family would have a younger son who each morning would lead the family’s little flock out to water and grass in the hills.
With stone and clay the dozen families would come together constructing an enclosure they would fit with a gate and with thorny branches topping the wall. That was the sheepfold to which each family’s shepherd boy would bring his sheep for the night. One of the twelve boys would need to remain through the night, trying not to doze as he sat hunched in the gateway. He had a ram’s horn for sounding an alarm when thieves came to snatch the sheep. The boy on duty for any night was familiarly called, “the gate.”
In calling himself the gate, Jesus was asking every parent, priest, teacher, doctor, lawyer, supervisor of every stripe to consult with him, to follow his rules. In leading their sheep out for pasturing they cannot say that exceptional circumstances have made it right to cheat, to falsify reports, to recommend an abortion, to steal a little of the company’s or the government’s money.

Jesus is the gate. In leading out children, employees or patients we cannot take immoral shortcuts.


In Chapter Ten of his Gospel St. John gave us Our Lord’s wonderful parable of “The Good Shepherd.” At the same time, entwined with it, St. John gave us a quite different one of Our Lord’s parables: the one in which he said, “I am the gate for the sheep.” Today we must grasp what he is  telling us with his parable of the gate.
We begin by getting a clear picture of such a sheepfold.
A town like Bethlehem might have a dozen families that kept sheep, and each family would have a younger son who each morning would lead the family’s little flock out to water and grass in the hills.
With stone and clay the dozen families would construct a corral they would fit with a gate and with thorny branches on top of the wall. That was the sheepfold to which each family’s shepherd boy would bring his sheep for the night. One of the twelve boys would need to remain through the night, trying not to doze as he sat hunched in the gateway. He had a ram’s horn for sounding an alarm when thieves came to snatch the sheep. The boy on duty for any night was familiarly called, “the gate.”
In calling himself the gate, Jesus was asking every parent, priest, teacher, doctor, lawyer, supervisor of every stripe to consult with him, to follow his rules. In leading their sheep out for pasturing they cannot say that exceptional circumstance have made it right for them to cheat, to falsify reports, to recommend  abortions, to steal a little of the company’s or the government’s money.

Did St. Matthais have a temper?



After Judas betrayed Jesus, going his own way, Peter announced the need to choose another disciple to take his place as the twelfth Apostle. So the remaining eleven asked God to express his choice. The disciples who had been with them from the beginning drew straws and God’s choice fell on Matthais. We do not know anything about the subsequent career of Matthais. 

If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you about a priest named Matthias who let his temper control him.  Three years younger than me, Mattie let me see his temper one day in a soccer game. I had taken the ball off him, and turned toward the other goal with it, when I heard Mattie pounding after me.

It sounded like serious pounding, so I tried to get out of danger by passing the ball off, Mattie, though, kept pounding after me, chasing me off the field; and not stopping until I turned to him with a look that said, “Cut the nonsense.” With that he snapped out of it, apologizing.

Fourteen years later we manned the bishop’s house at our diocese in Korea. I was the chancellor, and Mattie kept the books. His flares of anger had made him unfit for parish work, but he never again lost his temper with me. When it was seizing control of him he would disappear into his office, taking to smoking chain-style.

He liked nothing but meat and potatoes, but our bishop had opened our kitchen to a nun who liked experimenting with dishes. It was an awful thing when she put a shish-kabob on Mattie’s plate. He fumed over it until he had built up his maximum load of steam. Then, shouting, “Janie Mack!” he ran his fork up the stick sending bits of lamb, tomato and onion sailing all over the dining room.

Mattie’s temper didn’t let him live to see fifty. Perhaps, in God’s eyes he handled his affliction better than ninety-nine out of a hundred of us could have.

We are baptized into Christ Jesus.



A striking moment in this first reading came when Jesus asked, “Why are you persecuting me?” That day when Saul set off for Damascus Jesus had been dead and gone for a number of years. Still, instead of Jesus asking why are you persecuting my followers, he asked, “Why are you persecuting me?” 

Jesus was telling us that he is one with his followers and we are one with him. There is a phrase in Chapter Six of Paul’s Letter o the Romans that brings that out. He referred to all of us as “We who are baptized into Christ Jesus.”

Our Baptism liturgy, picking up on that, goes on to say that we who are baptized into Christ Jesus are baptized into sharing his priesthood, his kingship, and his right to speak as prophets.

DFud St. Matthais have a temper?



After Judas betrayed Jesus, going his own way, Peter announced the need to choose another disciple to take his place as the twelfth Apostle. So the remaining eleven asked God to express his choice. The disciples who had been with them from the beginning drew straws, and God’s choice fell on Matthais. We do not know anything about the subsequent career of Matthais. 

If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you about a priest named Matthias who let his temper control him.  Three years younger than me, Mattie let me see his temper one day in a soccer game. I had taken the ball off him, and turned toward the other goal with it, when I heard Mattie pounding after me.

It sounded like serious pounding, so I tried to get out of danger by passing the ball off , Mattie, though,   kept pounding after me, chasing me off the field; and not stopping until; I turned to him with a look that said, “Cut the nonsense.” With that he snapped out of it, apologizing.

Fourteen years later we manned the bishop’s house at our diocese in Korea. I was the chancellor, and Mattie kept the books. His flares of anger had made him unfit for parish work, but he never again lost his temper with me. When it was seizing control of him he would disappear into his office, taking to smoking chain-style.

He liked nothing but meat and potatoes, but our bishop had opened our kitchen to a nun who liked experimenting with dishes. It was an awful thing when she put a shish-kabob on Mattie’s plate. He fumed over it until he had built up his maximum load of steam. Then, shouting, “Janie Mack!” he ran his fork up the stick sending bits of lamb, tomato and onion sailing all over the dining room.

Mattie’s temper didn’t let him live to see fifty. Perhaps, in God’s eyes he handled his affliction better than ninety-nine out of a hundred of us could have.

Hymns mean more when they come from the heart.


Thursday, 5/12/11                                                                                                                                                                                                              

The Responsorial Psalms in our Masses were once joyful expressions of deep faith, but now we usually just rattle through them.  It occurred to me that we could profit from singing verses that meant more to us.

That thought turned me to remembering three funerals where the people sang hymns from the heart. Let me tell you about those occasions. The first was in 1967. Ray Repp and a Mark Howard had written modern hymns together. Then, after Mark was shipped home from Viet Nam, Ray sang one of their songs at Mark’s funeral. It had us all shivering.

                        I am the Resurrection and the life 
                                    He who believes in me shall never die.

Then, I was touched once when I wandered into a Quebec church, and someone told me they were conducting an old lady’s funeral. I sat down, then I heard the lady’s grandchildren sing the French version of a fine hymn.
                                   
Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee,
                                    E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me.

The most touchy funeral hymn I have heard followed on the Mass for my nearest classmate, Father Hugh O’Rourke. I drove up to Rhode Island for it. At its conclusion we priest made two lines outside the chapel; and as they carried our bother out between us we asked Mary to watch over him.  


Salve Regina, Mater Misericordiae
Vita dulcedo, et spes nostra salve.
Ad te clamamus, exsules filii Hevae.
Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes
In hac lacrimarum valle.

Eia, ergo, advocata nostra, illos tuos
Misericordes oculos ad nos converte.
Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui,
Nobis post hoc exsilium ostende.
O clemens, O piae, O dulcis, Virgo Maria

Jesus would reject some of us if he had the chance, but our doting Father won't let him.



In the Gospel Jesus said, “I will not reject anyone who comes to me, because I came down from heaven not to do my own will, but the will of the one who sent me.”

He was there saying that he was inclined to reject some of us. However, he has to put up with us, because the Father insists on it.

That reverses the way most of us picture Jesus and the Father. We see the Father as the stern God of the Old Testament while we look on Jesus as the sweet one who loves us in spite of everything.

But the opposite seems to be the case. Jesus, if he had his druthers would give us our walking papers; while the Father is indeed a doting Father who loves us in spite of everything.

Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” In saying that he was telling us he is only the means to the end. It is  the Father for whom our hearts were made, and they cannot rest until they rest in him.

Jesus said the manna was not the true bread from heaven.



After Jesus fed the five thousand with the five loaves of bread, the crowd began saying Jesus was the great prophet Moses had promised when he said, “A prophet like me will the Lord your God raise up from your own people, listen to him.”

Knowing that the people wanted him to lead a revolution against the Romans, Jesus forced the Apostles to set off in their fishing boat, while he disappeared into the hills. The crowds, were not able to follow him, and seeing that there were wasn’t another boat for him to take, they boarded a number of boats that came along. In the meantime Jesus had come walking on the water, and he joined the Apostles arriving in Capernaum.

The people, on tying up there were astounded at seeing Jesus in Capernaum ahead of them.. In a jolly, wondering, mood they asked, ”Rabbi, how did you get here?”

Knowing that among themselves the people were comparing notes about the taste of the bread he gave them, he said, “You are not looking for me because you understood the sign, but because you ate the bread.”

Here we must consult what scholars tell us about the expectations of those people. They tell us that they believed that when the Prophet like Moses appeared he would make manna to come showering down from heaven. So they said, “What sign can you do? Our ancestors ate manna in the desert.”

Jesus then said that what Moses gave them was not really bread from heaven. (I have heard that Sinai Bedouins still gather a white excretion from aphids that they call manna. Like the Bible’s manna it must be gathered before the sun comes up to melt it.  I wonder if Jesus had that in mind in saying Moses did not give true bread from heaven.) He goes on to say that he is the true bread from heaven. Later in this Chapter Six, Jesus will speak of the bread that he will give them to eat, a bread that is his flesh for the life of the world. However, here he was calling himself bread in the sense that he will  nourishes their minds with wisdom.

Stephen asked God to forgive his killers. He prayed, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them."



Our First Reading tells us of a debate between the deacon Stephen and “certain members of the so-called Synagogue of Freedmen.” Getting ahead of this story, let me remind you of how the dispute ended. Those men stoned Stephen to death; but in his last breath he prayed, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them."

We should not ignore St. Stephen’s example of being understanding. In our disputes we must try following Stephen. Even when every pain of mind and body was crying out for vengeance, Stephen forced himself to remain open to the point of view of his tormenters.

Let me tell you what he knew about the members of the Synagogue of Freedmen. They were victims of a cruel hostage policy. The Romans had holding camps in Rome for Jewish teenagers from every Mediterranean city. If their families at home kept from rebelling, the young men were allowed to return home after five years. Often, though, those young men after five years of incarceration for their beliefs, had become such pious Jews, that instead of returning to Cyrene, or Cypress, or Alexandria, they congregated near the temple in Jerusalem, forming their own synagogue.

We must think of those young men as being similar to Saul. Remember how Saul, before he became Paul on  the road to Damascus, had imprisoned many Jewish Christians whom he found eating with unclean Gentiles. Like Saul, these young men were zealous for keeping the law. With that understanding, Stephen prayed for the group who were bashing him with big rocks.

We all know how the law of gravity has a rock dropping the second we let go of it. Similarly, there
is a law of human nature that causes us always to go for what seems to be good. Often evil courses of action seem to be good to us, and we blunder along with them. But, humans always deserve “the benefit of the doubt.” That is, no matter how awful we know their actions to be, we must credit them with doing what they think best.

When the spirit comes as a breath it gives life and spiritual gifts. When it comes as a wind it empowers the recipient.



Our first reading today is the account from The Acts of the Apostles in which St. Peter explained to the crowd on Pentecost Sunday how it came about that the wonderful message of the Apostles could be understood by people who spoke other  languages. He said it came about because they had received the Holy Spirit.

People who have listened to me must be weary of my coming back to the subject of the Spirit. My excuse is that I once had a parish where an active Charismatic group made life uncomfortable for those of us who did not share their enthusiasms. That group without leaving our parish, joined up with a Protestant group who were also “Spirit filled.” Together they built a little church on the edge of town, making those of us who would not join them feel that we were only half-Christian.

That difficulty motivated me to look deeply into just what the Scriptures had to say about receiving the Spirit. From the beginning  I came upon the source of much confusion. It was this: the Bible word for spirit, Ruah, was also its word for a breath and a wind. So when the Bible spoke of God’s Ruah, the scholars were forced to decide whether to translate it as spirit, breath or wind. But, after pondering the matter, they began seeing that the circumstances told them which it was.

In Chapter One of Genesis the mighty Ruah blowing over the abyss was obviously a wind. In Chapter Two of Genesis the Ruah by which God gave life to Adam had to be a breath.

From that, as they proceeded through the Old Testament they begin to see a clear pattern developing. When the Ruah came as a breath it gave life and interior spiritual qualities to the one God breathed on.  When the Ruah came as a wind, or whirlwind, it gave its recipient dramatic powers without making him or her a better person.

In the Book of the Prophet Isaiah the Ruah came twice, once as a breath, once as a wind. Chapter Eleven prophesied that the Ruah would give the Messiah the interior gifts of wisdom, understanding, council, fortitude, knowledge and fear of the Lord. In Chapter Sixty-One the wind-like Ruah would make him out-going, empowering him  to heal and to liberate prisoners.  

On Easter night Christ breathed on the Apostles, bringing them inwardly alive (with the gift of Sanctifying Grace) but it did not visibly empowering them. On Pentecost he sent the Ruah as a mighty wind, empowering them with boldness and the gift of tongues.

Our first reading today concludes with Peter explaining how the Apostles came by their newfound powers. He said that Jesus, triumphant in death, was raised to the right side of the Father in heaven. As his reward for giving himself completely “He received the promise of the Holy Spirit from the Father and poured him forth, as you see and hear.”

The Apostles laid hands on deacons empowering them not only to handle mundane matters, but also to evengelize.



The first reading described the way the Church comes to have deacons. The Apostles felt that their main concern should be what they called “the word of God.” But, they were continuously being pulled away by the ordinary necessities of life. So they chose helpers whom they called deacons.

Now, the Bible makes it clear that deacons were more than ordinary servants. They chose only “reputable men, filled with the Spirit and Wisdom.” They didn’t just put them to work. No, the Apostles “prayed and laid hands on them.”

The spiritual dimensions of their calling became clear by the stories in the Acts Of The Apostles where the deacons Phillip and Stephen engaged in ambitious teaching ministries.

I have never had the privilege of working with a deacon, but I hope I will have the opportunity. In our diocese ten years ago Bishop Galeone commissioned Father Michael Morgan to look into broadening our reliance on deacons. Father Morgan did an excellent job studying the matter. He looked into what was working well with other dioceses, and he came up with excellent training programs that have brought fine men into our service.

Jesus took, he blessed, he gave.




When the disciples handed Jesus the five barley loaves he took, blessed, and gave them back for distribution.

Once, in trying to illustrate the Bible stories, I had a kid named Pedro serving as my model for Jesus. I positioned Pedro with one foot up on my low couch, so he would look like he was on a hillside. Then, I had him holding a basket that supposedly held the five loaves.

In picturing the miracle I didn’t imagine the loaves multiplying in plain sight. I just thought of Jesus reaching into the basket for more after the five should have been gone.

This is the only miracle described in detail in all four Gospels. In each of them the same sequence of verbs describes what Jesus did: he took, he blessed, he gave.

Our guess is that they always related it with the same words because in all the years after the Last Supper - when they came to write their gospels - that is way they said it every Sunday. They said, he took, he blessed, he gave. They were exactly following his orders to “do this in memory of me.”

Can we in good conscience go against what the Church says?



In today’s first reading the high priest addressed Peter and the Apostles, saying, “We gave you strict orders, did we not, to stop teaching in that name.”

Peter answered, “We must obey God rather than men.”

Pope John Paul II declared that the notion of ordaining women to the priesthood has been contrary to the teaching of the Church from the beginning, and therefore it is unlawful for anyone to advocate ordaining them.

These days there are people going against that. Father Roy Bourgeois, a Maryknoll priest, is being told he would be deprived of his priesthood if he goes against the Church on this.
 
This week the Vatican ousted Bishop William Morris, an Australian, for voicing that view. 

In our Church you cannot go against what the official church teaches. But our church also says that we only sin when we go against what our conscience tells us. The question is: can Father Bourgeois and Bishop Morris say they are following their consciences, or do they in good conscience have to obey the church?

St. James taught us that Faith without good works is useles.



The first verse of today’s Gospel is a favorite with Christians who say nothing more is needed for salvation than that one accept Jesus as his or her personal Savior. There used to be a man whose way of getting noticed was to dye his hair in all the colors of the rainbow. He managed to get before the television camera at every major sports event. You’d see him holding up his sign:

John 3:16

We must understand what St. Paul meant by saying we are not saved by good works, but by believing. In the year 70 A.D. the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and its temple. They killed or scattered its citizens, but they allowed the Hasidic Jews to come out to safety.

 Settled on the coast at a place called Jamnia, those survivors looked to how their religion could survive without the temple that was the center of everything. They began saying that Judaism consisted of keeping all the rules the Scribes had added to the Law of Moses.

It was against that narrow view that St. John pushed the need to believe. But, later,  some Christians began saying that if they believed there was no need  to avoid evil, or to help the needy. For those who said that faith alone can save us St. James wrote the following.

            What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith, but does not
            have works?  Can that faith save him? If a brother or a sister has nothing
            to wear and no food for the day, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace,
            keep warm, and eat well,’ but you do not give them the necessities of the
            body, what good is it? So faith, of itself, if it does not have works, is dead.” 

Martin Luther brushed those words aside, saying that the Letter of James was a very strawy epistle.

Twenty years ago I had a Baptist boy in my class, and he used to write “John, 3:16” as his answer to every quiz question. I passed him, because he was answering with his conscience. Eight years ago he was in a wedding party at my church, and he thanked me for what he had learned in our Religion class.

Our having twelve apostles pairs Christianity with Judaism's twelve patriarchs.



Today we celebrate the feast of two lesser known Apostles: Phillip and James the Less. Phillip was one of the original four with James the Greater, John, and Peter. He also tells how much it would cost Jesus to feed the five thousand; and he spoke up after the Last Supper, telling Jesus,  “Show us the Father, and that will be enough for us.”  James was probably called “The Less,” because he was shorter than James the brother of John.

The early Church did not see the Apostles as important because of their personal qualities. Their number twelve was important in giving Christianity a standing next to Israel which was founded on twelve patriarchs. 

Our inheriting the role of Judaism meant very little to American Catholics before i970, but since readings from the Old Testament have been introduced into our Masses we have gradually developed a taste for them.

I often tell a story exemplifying our lack of appreciation for the Old Testament before 1970. I was coming down to Florida to teach Bible to high school kids, and the evening before I left Chicago for the south I had dinner with an old friend who had become an archbishop. When I told him I was going to teach Bible he said, “Stay away from the Old Testament.”

I asked Archbishop Harold Henry why should I stay away from the Old Testament, and he said, “It is nothing but a bucket of worms.”

I wasn’t much more appreciative than that; but over these forty years of Old Testament readings at morning Mass I have often found them to be more spiritually nourishing than the New Testament readings for the day.

St. James taught us that Faith without good words is dead.



The first verse in today’s Gospel is a favorite with Christians who say nothing more is needed for salvation than that one accept Jesus as his or her personal savior. There used to be a man whose way of getting noticed was to dye his hair in all colors of the rainbow. He managed to get before the television camera at every major athletic event. You’d see him gleefully holding up his sign: John 3:16.

We must understand what St. John and St. Paul meant by saying we are not saved by good works, but by believing.

In the year 70 A.D. the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and its temple, killing or scattering all the moderate Jews, but allowing the Hasidic Jews to pass out of the doomed city. Those survivors assembled on the coast, and they began saying that Judaism, deprived of its temple, would from then on be made up only of all those who would observe the thousands of rules the Scribes had added to the Law of Moses.

It was against that narrow view that John and Paul pushed the need to believe. But, then, when some Christians began saying that if they believed there was no need for them to avoid evil or to help the poor. To those who said faith alone saves, St. James wrote, “What good is it my brothers, if someone says he has faith, but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or a sister has nothing to wear and no food for the day, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, keep warm, and eat well,’ but you do not give them the necessities of the body, what good is it? So faith, of itself, if it does not have works, is dead.”

Martin Luther pushed those words of James aside. He said, “James’ is a very strawy Epistle.”

Twenty years ago I had a Baptist boy in my class, and he used to write “John, 3:16” as his answer to every quiz question. I passed him, because he was answering with his conscience. Eight years ago he was in a wedding party at our church, and he thanked me for what he had learned in our Religion class.

We mst accept Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of God.



Today’s Gospel features Nicodemus who buried Jesus in the tomb that he had prepared for himself. Instead of following up on the Easter Week sequence, the Gospel unexpectedly skipped back to an incident three years earlier. So. we find ourselves in a meeting that had nothing to do with events following on Easter.

This old story had Nicodemus so afraid of being seen with Jesus that he slipped in by night. He blurted out his conviction that Jesus was something special. He said, “You are a teacher come from God.” He couldn’t go beyond that, and for Jesus it simply was not enough.

To see what was lacking back then we might take another look at yesterday’s Gospel. The reading for the Sunday after Easter concluded with St. John telling us his clear purpose in writing his Gospel. He said:

            Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples that
            are not written in this book. But these are written that you may come
            to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through
            this belief you may have life in his name.

So, John there tells us that of all things he witnessed Jesus doing and saying, the only incidents he chose for his Gospel were the ones that clearly prove to us that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God.

Originally Nicodemus would not go that far, and he was a loser for stopping short. The same holds for us. We must whole-heartedly accept Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of God.