October 31, 2004: Today Salvation Has Come

The Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time



I think most people would agree that we live in a world dominated by the mass media. We have become very conditioned to think in terms of perfection. We see a TV character or a performer or a pro athlete, and even though a lot of what we see is just an image or pure entertainment — and of course, we know that — we somehow convince ourselves that what we see is reality — and not just reality, but the ideal we should strive for in our own life.

So we start to think: I have to have hair like this model… a voice like that singer… a personality like that actor… I have to be tall and slender and be well-muscled and perfectly proportioned. And of course I have to be wealthy like the rich and famous.

But then I look in the mirror. Big sigh… Where are my six-pack abs? I guess they’re hidden under my spare tire or beer gut. Perfect hair and teeth? Not quite. Rich and famous? Not according to my bank book.

Compared to my fantasy —reinforced by TV and the movies — I don’t stack up too well at all. How depressing!

Lots of us carry around still heavier emotional baggage because we don’t fit the perfect mold we imagine. Maybe my self-esteem is battered because I can’t get good grades in school or I’m athletically hopeless… because my parents or my wife or my boyfriend is always telling me how stupid I am — or even hits me… because I’m a divorced single mother and nothing ever comes easy… because I’m gay and I’m scared to death to tell anyone and I’m so lonely and depressed I wish sometimes I could just end it all… because I’m trying desperately to hold things together even though I’m hooked on pills or alcohol or gambling or sex or food and I can’t quit and my world may collapse around me at any moment… because I’m chronically ill and I’m sick to death of being sick…

Zacchaeus, the fellow in today’s Gospel, could easily have fit into some of these categories. People hated him, because he was a tax collector and a cheat — a traitor to his own people. Physically, he was a short, dumpy little guy who probably took a lot of ribbing for his small size. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a pretty miserable personality, too.

Happily for him, one day Zacchaeus got to meet Jesus and his life was turned around. His size and shape didn’t change, but his heart did. That’s why Jesus said, “Today salvation has come to this house.”

In our own self-pity, it’s often easy to forget the wonderful, incredible, truly joyful message that God has for us. I love the words from our first reading today, from the Book of Wisdom, addressed to our Heavenly Father:

“For you love all things that are and loathe nothing that you have made; for what you hated, you would not have fashioned.”

In other words — God, who is all-good, all-perfect, all-loving — made me. He wanted me to be what I am. He loves me profoundly and eternally — as I am.

God loves me even if I’m handicapped or have a debilitating disease?… even if I think I’m a failure in looks, or brains, or talent?... even if I’ve lived a sinful life? Yes, He does. Yes, yes, yes.

The Gospels tell us plainly that each of us has to pick up our cross and carry it. You have one kind of cross; I have another. God in His wisdom sees to it that none of His children has a cross heavier than he can bear.

Not only that, but God is also right there to help us and guide us. He reassures us that the trials of this life can be our stepping stones to the eternal joys of heaven. He will teach us not only how to cope with our personal cross but how to embrace it lovingly, take advantage of it, and see it for the gift that it is!

Do you feel that you can only “look from afar” at the Lord because of what you’ve done in the past? Jesus says to you, “Come. I won’t hurt you. The more lost you feel, the more I love you. Take the risk. Come to me.”

Did you ever think that being an addict or disabled or gay or a criminal could actually be a gift and blessing from God? Well, it certainly is once you know you’ve got God’s grace on your side.

To tap into the Lord’s power, you have to accept your cross with faith, trusting and hoping in God’s loving mercy. If your faith is weak or shaky, pray for more — “Lord, I believe… help my unbelief!” (Mark 9, 24). That’s what Our Lord means when He says, “Take My yoke upon you… for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Mt. 11, 29–30).

Call on your heavenly friends to help, too: the saints, the angels, and especially your own dear Guardian Angel.

Grow in grace, especially in sacramental grace, by frequenting the sacraments — most importantly, Confession and Holy Communion.

Deepen your devotional life: join a prayer group… come to the daily Rosary… do some spiritual reading… pop into church and spend some quiet time before the Blessed Sacrament, especially during this Year of the Eucharist.

And of course, make a valiant effort to give up your sins and turn your life around. The Wisdom writer reminds us that God is ever so patient with us: “You rebuke offenders little by little, warn them and remind them of the sins they are committing, that they may abandon their wickedness and believe in you, O Lord.”

Forget about the past. It’s over and done. Decide here and now that you want to make a new beginning. In Christ, you’re like a newborn baby. Can a newborn walk? Can he feed himself? Can he sing or read or speak? No, not yet. But someday he will.

It takes time to grow. But is the parent in the delivery room ashamed of the baby? Is the mom embarrassed that the infant can’t spell… that the baby can’t walk… that the newborn can’t give a speech?

Of course not. The parents aren’t ashamed; they are proud. They know that growth will come with time. And so does God.

Rejoice, dear children in the Lord. Just like Zacchaeus, rejoice in God’s love and strength that are easily within your reach… starting this very day.

God bless you!



Today’s Readings:
Wisdom 11, 22 – 12, 2
Psalm 145
2 Thessalonians 1, 11 – 2, 2
Luke 19, 1–10

October 24, 2004: To Be Guided by the Justice of God

The Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time




This past week, I’ve been thinking a lot about the mystery of God . . . of how unfathomable He is.

St. Paul writes to St. Timothy in our second reading today and says, “I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith.” In other words, he has no doubt that God is pleased with him and he’s going to heaven.

Maybe Paul had a special kind of grace for Apostles. I can scarcely imagine that kind of certainty! Instead, I am struck by how so many of us—all of us God’s precious children!—honestly (but perhaps a trifle arrogantly) believe in our heart of hearts that we know with certainty the mind of God. Nowhere is this truer than in religion and politics.

I’ve been entertained (if that’s the right word) by the political endorsement letters appearing in the local newspaper. One writer endorses Bush; another Kerry; still another tells us why it’s not worth voting at all. Then another letter writer talks about which issues are non-negotiable, while still another sets out an altogether different list of issues that can’t be compromised on. Even the bishops of our Church aren’t of one mind on the issues of our day.

So who’s got the handle on God’s mind? Where lies the truth?

I love the opening lines from the passage in Sirach—our first reading: “The Lord is a God of justice, who knows no favorites. Though not unduly partial toward the weak, yet he hears the cry of the oppressed.” That key word—justice—“the Lord is a God of justice”—refers to the relationships we form with one another . . . including our relationship with God, and His with us. And yet, God’s ways are not our ways.

There’s a wonderful story about a Chicago bank that asked for a letter of recommendation for a fellow from Boston being considered for employment. The Boston investment house couldn’t say enough about the young man. His father, they wrote, was a Cabot. His mother was a Kennedy. Further back was a happy blend of Saltonstalls, Peabodys, and several of Boston’s other first families. His recommendation was given without hesitation. Several days later, the Chicago bank sent a note saying the information supplied was completely inadequate. It said, “We are not contemplating using the young man for breeding purposes. Just for work.”

And neither is God a respecter of our pedigree, but He accepts those from every family, nation and race who fears Him and works for His kingdom as best they know how.

Think about how we may resent it when someone has the inside track because of nepotism or favoritism. We may just presume that those people don’t have the ability or talents necessary for the job, but strings were pulled.

Yet when it comes to God and us, this kind of favoritism is not only acceptable, it is presumed! As Sirach continues, “The one who serves God willingly is heard; his petition reaches the heavens.” You see? A mutual relationship guarantees God’s favor.

In St. Luke’s wonderful Gospel, Jesus reveals what’s at the heart of that kind of relationship. God doesn’t respond to us because we can produce a list of accomplishments. On the contrary, the folks who can produce a list of all the good stuff they’ve done or believe probably do not have the “righteousness” that God expects! Remember, the parable of the two praying Jews is addressed “to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else.”

The Pharisee is convinced that his list is worthy of God’s attention. “O God,” he prays, “I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity—greedy, dishonest, adulterous—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.” Surely he has a right to the Lord’s ear!

Meanwhile, the sin-conscious tax collector—an employee of the hated Roman occupation army—“stood off at a distance and would not even raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast and prayed, ‘O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.’”

Jesus announces that the tax collector went home justified, but not the Pharisee . . . or as the Lord puts it, “for those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Now: back to politics and religion. Some Catholics—maybe some of us—have been asking how worthy some people really are: to receive Holy Communion, to show their face at Mass, perhaps even to call themselves Catholic! Maybe this has to do with pro-choice politicians, legislators who favor same-sex marriage, or cloning, or stem cell research, or capital punishment, or the war in Iraq, or . . . the list seems to grow longer every day. It has also been suggested that Catholics who vote for politicians who hold certain views on these issues shouldn’t even dare to present themselves for Communion.

And then, of course, there are all those groups who seem to oppose the Church on matters of faith and morals. Sometimes we priests are urged to deny communion to people “living in sin,” or divorced and remarried, or in some other lifestyle outside the norm.

What is Christ’s mind? I read a wonderful pastoral letter written by Bishop John Kinney of the Diocese of St. Cloud, Minnesota. It’s called, “Holy Communion Must Not Be Used as a Weapon.” Bishop Kinney teaches that the Eucharist should not be used as a club in a political or ideological debate. He reminds us that it is the teaching of the Church that it is up to the individual to examine his own conscience and determine whether he is in a state of grave sin needing to go to confession before receiving Holy Communion. It is not the place—nor is it even possible—for one human being to judge someone else’s relationship with God. That’s a sin; it’s called rash judgment.

As we pray, and listen to God’s word, and prepare to receive Our Lord, we would do well to reflect on today’s lesson and listen to ourselves as we recite our prayer before communion: “O Lord, I am not worthy to receive you . . .” The prayer does not say, “O Lord, my neighbor is not worthy . . .”



Today’s Readings:
Sirach 35, 12–18
Psalm 34
2 Timothy 4, 6–8 and 16–18
Luke 18, 9–14

October 17, 2004: The Rhythm of Prayer

29th Sunday of the Year


[ I will be away this weekend, so I am sending another "oldie goldie" homily from this cycle. — FJL ]

You may remember the famous anthropologist, Margaret Mead. One of her many husbands, who was also an anthropologist, observed that the natives on his little South Pacific island prayed very hard over their yam gardens after planting them.

“Very interesting,” he thought. “Poor superstitious people. They think that prayer can actually make their gardens produce more!” So he chuckled to himself about how naïve and gullible they were.

But then, he remembered that he was a scientist and that, in principle, he ought to try some kind of controlled experiment before he wrote off the natives as ignorant savages. So he decided that he would plant his own yam gardens in two spots that seemed exactly similar in style and sunlight. He also resolved to tend each of the gardens with equal care. Then he would pray over one but not the other.

Unfortunately, he didn’t know any prayers. But he did have a Hebrew Bible with him. He didn’t understand Hebrew, but he could pronounce the words from going to Hebrew school as a boy. So he read a couple of passages each day from the Bible over one of the gardens. He later admitted that he probably gave a little extra care to the garden without the prayer, because he really didn’t want the prayer to work.

But it did. He had no idea what to make of the outcome of his experiment and repeated it several times. Each time the prayer worked.

In a way, we priests are like gardeners — and you thought that we were just “fishers of men”! Our number one job is to pray for the people. That’s the main reason why every week we have one or more Mass intentions in the bulletin for all parishioners of St. Paul’s Parish, living and deceased.

For all Christians — and especially for priests — prayers should be assumed. But we sometimes need a reminder. Today, Jesus tells a parable about “the necessity to pray always without becoming weary” (Luke 18, 1). He gives the example of a woman who lacks the usual leverage — looks, money, power, a husband. The only resource she has is persistence. Jesus tells us that when we pray, we should imitate her.

Priests make a commitment to a serious life of prayer when we are ordained. As part of our prayer life, we also accept the obligation to pray the Divine Office every day — lauds [Morning Prayer] in the morning, vespers [Evening Prayer] in the evening … and also the Office of Readings, Daytime Prayer, and Compline [Night Prayer] at night. By doing this, we strive to dedicate each segment of the day to God with the psalms, a short meditation, some intercessions. In a way, you might say we live on “liturgical time” — which is almost a poetic kind of time aimed at giving glory to God and spending some precious moments with Him rather than being productive or getting things done on schedule in the usual sense.

A parish priest, even as he chooses among a hundred tasks, has to give first place to this kind of poetic time. People often ask, “Father, please pray for me.” When I say I will, I don’t want my answer to be just a throw-away line. I make a conscious effort to recall people’s specific requests, especially the most serious ones. But at the very least, I assume their requests into my times of prayer: “for all those I promised to pray for, Lord, please give them what they most urgently need.”

And to a similar but understandably lesser extent, God asks the very same of you.

You might wonder why we need to pester God with so many requests when He already knows our needs. Let me propose two reasons.

First, simply because Jesus has told us to. “Ask and you shall receive… Knock and the door shall be opened” (Matthew 7, 7). He even gives us as a model the person who drives a public official crazy by her nagging. God evidently has a tender spot for souls like these.

The second reason is that God has set things up so our prayers can have an impact on the world. Let me give you an example. I could say, “God knows I need salt on my eggs to enjoy them, so why bother picking up the salt shaker?” But no one says that, because we know our participation is required to get results. Even though we don’t see it so directly, the same is true of prayer. God has ordered the world so that what matters most depends on our prayer.

That’s why we must pray constantly, and we have to spread out our prayer — just like we do with many things in our life.

Nobody decides that he’s going to eat a giant quantity of food on Monday and then not have to eat for the rest of the week. We don’t take ten deep breaths and say, “Good! That’s over for a while. Now I don’t have to breathe for a couple of hours.”

No, prayer must become like eating and breathing. It must permeate our life and our time. In a way, prayer becomes our life, and our heavenly Father who loves us so, wants to draw us to Himself and give us every good gift — especially those things we pray for. As Our Lord has said, “Therefore I tell you, all that you ask for in prayer, believe that you will receive it and it shall be yours” (Mark 11, 24).


Today's Readings:
Exodus 17, 8–13
Psalm 121
2 Timothy 3, 14 – 4, 2
Luke 18, 1–8 (Key reading)

October 10, 2004: Unchaining God

The Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time



I hope you don’t think I’m too weird or nerdy, but I was browsing online the other day, looking at a site called “The Physics Factbook.” [http://hypertextbook.com/facts/2003/RachelScottRosenbluth.shtml] There was an interesting page that gave all kinds of data on the human brain. I learned, for example, that at birth, the average human brain weighs 14 ounces. It usually reaches its maximum size at age 15—kind of a frightening thought! At its maximum, the brain weighs about 46 ounces—slightly less than three pounds.

If you’d like a comparison, go down to the gas station and buy one of those “Big Gulp” soft drinks. The cup it comes in would just about hold a full-grown human brain!

Now, even though there’s no way for medical professionals to prove it, the old theory was that we use only about 10% of our brain capacity. If that’s true, you might think that we start out with a Big Gulp, but after deducting the non-working part, we’re down to doing all our thinking with a Quarter Pounder with Cheese.

And that, my friends, is the sum total of the tool we’ve been given to try to comprehend the infinite and figure out the mysteries of the ages. Not too likely!

Struggle as we might, there’s no way that we can decipher God’s awesome plan for our human race. Because we are limited, we have a tendency to put limits on how we think God works—and that short-changes both God and us.

The Mass readings today caution us about this. Perhaps St. Paul summarizes the theme when he tells St. Timothy, “The word of God is not chained.”

You see, many of us do believe that God’s word is chained. We hear it within the limits imposed by our own experiences and even our own beliefs. What do you really think God feels about the hot-button and even the mundane issues of our own day? Does He bless love-filled second marriages, or does He condemn the new spouses for adultery? Does He really think abortion is never, ever permitted, or does He understand that maybe a woman has no choice in certain circumstances? Does He find it unnatural that two men or two women could be in love with each other, or is He happy to bless them to express that love? Would it be OK with Him if women could become priests and bishops and maybe even the Pope, or it that beyond the pale? Does He honestly think it is a terrible sin for a couple to use contraception, or does He really think it’s all right?

You can probably come up with dozens of other questions like these… and we’ve all seen the texts of the Bible used to defend either side of just about any argument. If God is pure love and if He loves all the children He created, then how do we arrive at so much condemnation—from each other and even from the Church?

You see? Our quarter-pounder-brain-with-cheese does have a tough time deciphering the mysteries of our own religion, much less the mysteries of the universe!

Obviously, people of faith live within a tension. We are what our environment and traditions have formed us to be, yet at the same time, God’s holy word urges us to go beyond these circumstances to shape a new environment and create new traditions according to His plan.

The first reading describes this kind of tension in an ancient setting. On the one hand, the Israelites believed, at the time, that Yahweh was limited by geography; he was the God only of Israel. When Jews traveled outside the Promised Land, Yahweh was powerless to help them. The gods whose territory they entered took over at the border. That’s why when the Syrian general, Naaman, was cured, he asked the prophet Elisha for “two mule loads of earth.” His idea was to take the Jewish soil back to Damascus and spread it around his property, so in effect, Naaman would be on Israelite land so this would empower Yahweh to help him as his god!

But on the other hand, we also hear about the limitlessness of Yahweh’s word. Yahweh didn’t just help His own chosen people, as you might think. Who does He decide to heal? Naaman! Not only a Gentile, but a hated Syrian enemy!

The same kind of tension pops up in the Gospel, too. We see, for example, that Jesus’ show of power appears to be limited by Jewish law when he tells the lepers to go show themselves to the priest. Under the law, only priests could declare that someone was a leper or cured of leprosy. But then, on the other hand, Jesus acted outside the norm. He first cures a heretic, a Samaritan! Then, after this outcast Jew comes back to thank Him, Jesus says something incredible: “Stand up and go; your faith has saved you.”

Think about that! The mainstream Jews ostracized Samaritans precisely because they lacked orthodox faith, yet here’s Jesus blowing everyone’s mind by declaring that God’s saving actions aren’t going to be limited by a person’s orthodoxy!

We know that. We know that not only Catholics are going to be saved. We don’t by any means have a monopoly on God’s blessings. Maybe we’ve been shown a most wonderful and reliable way to stumble along to the Kingdom of Heaven, but it is not the only path for all people.

Now perhaps it makes sense why the letter to Timothy includes part of a beautiful, early Christian hymn: “If we have died with Him, we shall also live with Him; if we persevere, we shall also reign with Him. But if we deny Him, He will deny us. If we are unfaithful, He remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself.”

Christians believe that becoming one with the risen Jesus is the most unchained experience we can have on this earth. Dying and rising with Him takes us beyond the restrictions that our daily lives impose on us. Jesus’ actions aren’t even limited even by our unfaithfulness to Him… thank God!

So: how are we to respond to today’s readings? Are we being given free license to live any old way we want or to believe anything we want? No. Absolutely, no. We belong to Christ Jesus, and He wants us live in right relationship with Him, with each other and with all of creation. We are not God. We can’t shape the world to suit ourselves or our desires. No, we are creatures, living according to His design of what’s right and what’s wrong, and what’s loving and what’s not.

Yet on the other hand, we have to unchain God so He can work outside our limited understanding. And there’s the tension. It would be good to get into the habit of not only examining our own actions each day, but also to reflect on God’s actions in our lives. Blessings often break through the restrictions we just assumed were there.

Dear brothers and sisters in the Lord Jesus, open your mind and heart to the breathtaking possibilities and miracles that are at work all around us. Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever!





Today’s Readings:
2 Kings 5, 14–17
Psalm 98
2 Timothy 2, 8–13
Luke 17, 11–19

(School Mass): Friday, October 8, 2004

Maggie and I really enjoyed ourselves Monday morning at the pet blessing service in the parking lot in honor of St. Francis. Pets are sure lots of fun!

Take Buster, for instance. He’s a hamster that’s owned by a couple of my friends. Buster has a little cage and a warm nest of cedar shavings to curl up in, a water bottle to drink from, and best of all, a wheel he can run inside of. He has everything a hamster could want or need.

But Buster refuses to run inside his running wheel. Instead, he has come up with what he thinks is a better idea. Buster climbs up on top of the wheel, on the outside of it. He carefully rolls over on his back on the top of the wheel, and stretches out. Gradually, the wheel starts to turn, and Buster’s entire body rolls with it, head first. The wheel picks up speed and spins faster and faster until clunk! Buster’s head smacks on the bottom of the cage. Buster gets up, shakes himself around because he hurt himself from the unexpected sharp blow on his head.

But what does Buster do? Why, he climbs right back up on top of the wheel, turns over, stretches himself out, and gets ready to clunk his head again. Why? Why would a hamster who has everything he needs completely ignore the right way to use his wheel and do something that only hurts himself? And why, even after that, would he do it again and again?

The bigger question is: why do we human beings, who are supposedly a lot smarter than hamsters, sometimes do the same thing?

How do we do that? you may be wondering. The answer is, we do it by our bad habits and sins.

I think you all know that a sin is something that God doesn’t want us to do—or say—or think about. The reason that something bad is a sin is because God loves us so much, that he doesn’t want us to do anything that can hurt us.

Sometimes, we try to stay away from committing sins, because we don’t like the way they make us feel. Nobody likes what it feels like when you’ve had a fight with somebody, and everyone is angry and tries to avoid each other. We can’t wait to make up and be friends again. Or who likes to get into an argument with your parents, when there’s shouting and door-slamming and saying lots of mean things? That doesn’t feel good either.

But other times, a sin may not feel bad at all. Your Mom may tell you not to ride your bike across a main street or over the railroad tracks. She’s afraid you’ll get hurt. But you and your friends think it’s cool. Or, you may think that it’s not so bad to tell a lie now and then—or cheat on a test—to get out of a tight spot. But disobedience and dishonesty are never OK, even if they might seem to be a good idea at the time.

The thing to remember about sin is that it’s easy for it to become a bad habit. Tell a little lie today, and it is even easier to tell another one tomorrow. And for some people—maybe even some kids you know—lying or cheating or stealing or cussing or being disrespectful—becomes a way of life… a bad habit. And just like Buster the hamster, time after time, that person rolls right off the wheel onto his head. Jesus certainly doesn’t want that to keep happening to anyone He loves—especially you!

Let’s say that maybe you have some kind of bad habit like that in your life. What can you do about it?

Do you know that the one of the most powerful gifts that God gave us is the gift of prayer? So find a time that you’re all alone and can talk to God a little bit. It can be in your room or outside. It can be when you’re riding your bike or skateboarding… when you’re shooting baskets or taking the dog for a walk or drying the dishes after dinner. In your own words, just think about God and tell him, “God, I know you love me and want the best for me. I want to be good. I don’t want that bad habit any more, but I can’t break it by myself. Jesus, please help me!”

The minute you say a prayer like that, something amazing happens. Sin is no longer the boss of you! Like in the Gospel we just heard, you throw out the demons—and in their place, the Holy Spirit takes over to help you and protect you.

Now, even if you don’t break your bad habit immediately and all at once, don’t worry about it too much. Just keep trying. Jesus loves that you’re trying, and your effort will make you stronger and holier—and happier, too!

Maybe one day, Buster will learn not to use his wheel the wrong way and keep falling off. And maybe one day, we’ll learn our lesson about God’s love and not sinning, too. Let’s pray for each other today so we can all do better in God’s eyes.

October 3, 2004: Not for Sissies

The Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time


This past week has been a tough one in our parish. We buried two great friends — Frank Palmer on Tuesday at age 83, and Jean Tevebaugh on Friday at age 80 — and we’ve got several more elderly parishioners in the hospital: one with emphysema and struggling to breathe… another with a broken hip but far too fragile to endure the necessary surgery… still another with a gangrenous colon… and so on down the line. And of course, our nursing homes have more of the same, in even greater numbers.

If you’re an old movie fan, I’m sure you remember the great actress, Bette Davis. This coming Wednesday marks the 15th anniversary of her death. Bette is famous for a great quote. She said, “Old age is no place for sissies.” Isn’t that the truth! Life’s toughest problems pale by comparison to the health issues of the senior years.

Our older parishioners—especially those in their 80s and 90s—grew up in a different age. The Church was different back then. Even Fr. Motsett was a young pup! Whether you miss those days or you’re glad they’re behind us, one thing is certain: people kept themselves connected to the Catholic Church. A Catholic with any faith at all wouldn’t dream of missing Saturday confession—much less Sunday Mass. Things may have been strict by the standards of today’s world, but they definitely gave folks an anchor.

And today—perhaps 50 or 60 or even 70 years later—those same folks—many now in hospital beds—are drinking from the deep reservoir of that strong faith foundation to sustain themselves… to keep themselves going. They are not despairing. They are not giving up. They are not calling for Dr. Kevorkian. No, they are hanging in there, toughing life out, knowing that God has a plan and a timetable. Those of us who are still a little younger can only marvel… and agree, that old age is no place for sissies.

Our Mass readings today encourage us to persevere, to hang tough, despite life’s problems and bitter times. The prophet Habakkuk complains to God about the oppressive life his people must endure. He wants to know how come the Lord doesn’t do something about it: “Why do you let me see ruin? Why must I look at misery?”

St. Paul reminds Timothy that God didn’t give him a spirit of cowardice, but rather one of power and self-control. He writes, “Bear your share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God.”

The great thing about God is that He doesn’t leave us guessing. God never commands us to do anything without giving us the way and the help to do it. Jesus reprimanded the Pharisees for laying heavy burdens on people’s backs without lifting a finger to help them… He certainly doesn’t do that! So what’s the way? What’s the great secret that turns the sick and suffering into spiritual powerhouses?

The greatest thing is the Mass.

Now, I don’t need to “preach to the choir,” as the saying goes. Obviously, you’re all here at Mass, so you already know the importance of coming. But what about so many other people who aren’t here today? We can seat 325 to 350 people in St. Paul’s. We have five weekend Masses. So we have room, comfortably, for 1,700 people—which is less than the size of our parish family. So why aren’t we packed in here? Where is everyone?

I guess there are lots of reasons. Maybe some people think Mass is dull and boring and they don’t feel they get anything out of it. Others may think that God doesn’t care if they miss Mass twenty or fifty times a year; after all, they come when they can. Or, people may be busy—they want to sleep in or play ball or go shopping or watch the game on TV—no time for Church! Maybe some people are angry about something—a priest or a nun or a Catholic school teacher who insulted them, or a teaching they disagree with, so they “punish God” by staying away. Maybe some people don’t feel worthy. And there are lots of other excuses, too.

Now, if a person has made up his mind that he’s not coming to church, and he’s adamant about it, there’s not much you can do—except pray for him that the Holy Spirit will work on him and soften his attitude one day. But it the real reason he’s not coming may simply be that he’s fallen into the habit of not coming to Mass—the same way we fall into the habit of not exercising any more or falling back into smoking cigarettes after quitting or slipping off our diet. We wish we could do better, but we’re just a little weak. So it may be your job as a friend and a faithful Catholic to jump in and lend a hand and provide a spark… a spark to save a soul!

Through your own prayer, let God fill you with the words and opportunities you need to be Christ’s apostle. A friend may tell you that Mass is meaningless or boring or hypocritical… yet you come every Sunday—and maybe every day! Why? You see the same Mass they do, but you get something valuable out of it. What is this deeper meaning that you’re getting? You ought to meditate on this, because this is precisely what you need to share. When you speak of your experience with the Lord at Mass, people are going to listen.

Teenagers and children, this message goes for you, too—maybe even more than for the grown-ups. There are lots of your friends who don’t come to Mass as they should… and often it’s because their parents don’t come so they have no way to get here. You should invite your friends to Mass with you—and you should work on them to persuade their parents to start bringing them.

I know it isn’t always easy to talk to your friends and family about coming to church. It isn’t the coolest conversation in the world. Jesus knows that, too. But if you’re brave enough and willing enough to pray about this, God will give you the courage and opportunities you need. He won’t forget that you put your neck on the line for him. Being a real Catholic isn’t for sissies either.

In the Gospel today, Jesus says that even if we had a tiny faith—the size of a mustard seed—smaller than a single sprinkle on a doughnut!—you could command a giant tree to be uprooted and transplanted into the sea. It takes even less effort to get a couple of friends back to Mass on Sunday.

Is it worth it? You bet! That’s the very strength that keeps our elderly friends going, because they know it’s what’s going to save their souls. Their goal is clearly in sight.

Make this your special project and prayer intention this week. Pray for more faith. Then start looking for openings and opportunities to invite a friend or two to come back. God’s blessings will amaze you! Amen!




Today’s Readings:
Habakkuk 1, 2–3 and 2, 2–4
Psalm 95
2 Timothy 1, 6–14
Luke 17, 5–10

(School Mass): Friday, October 01, 2004

(Feast of St. Thérèse)

I love the Gospel we just listened to [Mt 18, 1-5]. Jesus called over a child and put him in the middle of a group of his disciples. He told them, “Look at this child. You have to be like children if you want to get into the kingdom of heaven.”

What did Jesus mean? What are children like that makes them special in God’s eyes?

I’ll bet when you were very small, before you even started school, you liked to watch some of the popular children’s shows on television. I bet you watched Sesame Street, Barney and Friends, and lots of cartoons.

I love the story of a little girl named Katie. She was 3 years old, and she got a bad case of the flu. Her Mom was worried about her, so she took her to the doctor. The doctor looked in Katie’s ears with his special scope, and he said, “Will I find Big Bird in here?”

Katie thought the doctor was kind of weird. She said, “No.”

Then, the doctor wanted to look at her throat. He asked, “Will I find the Cookie Monster in here?”

Katie laughed a little bit and said, “No.”

And then, the doctor got his stethoscope because he wanted to listen to her heart. He put the instrument to her chest and asked her, “Will I find Barney in here?”

Katie looked him in the eye and said, “No. Jesus is in my heart. Barney is on my underwear.”

We smile or laugh at that because Katie’s answer is very innocent. That means she answered the doctor very simply and honestly. She wasn’t trying to be funny or a wise guy. She just answered his question directly and truthfully.

And that’s exactly what Jesus means when he says that we should all be like children. He wants us to be honest and simple, and not to worry too much about whether the truth we speak may sound goofy to some people. When we’re like children, we’re not embarrassed or shy to tell people that we love Jesus and that He’s in our heart—just like Katie did. Jesus wants all of us to be simple and innocent.

Today the Church celebrates the feast of a very great saint who was always simple and innocent. Her name was Thérèse; that’s French for “Theresa.” She grew up in a little village in France in a very loving home, but when she was still quite young, her mother died. So Thérèse’s father and sisters raised her.

Even when she was quite small, Thérèse wanted to be a saint. She loved praying and going to church, and when she got a little older—about your age—she made up her mind that she wanted to be a nun. She tried and tried to get into the Carmelite convent, but she was much too young. Finally, after praying hard and pleading, she was allowed to enter the religious life as a teenager. She was so happy!

Once Thérèse got into the convent, she realized that she was just a young girl and didn’t know how she could do all the great big things that she thought nuns had to do to become a saint. So she said to herself, “There has to be another way. I’m just small and simple. There has to be a small and simple way.”

So you know what she did? She got out her Bible and started to read. She figured that she would find the answers in there someplace—so she read and read.

And one day, she found the answer! She found the place where St. Paul wrote that God is love. “That’s it!” she said to herself. “The small and simple way to God is love!”

So Thérèse made up her mind that she would do everything with love. If she had to do a chore—like sweeping the floor or peeling potatoes—she would say, “Jesus, I’m doing this little job as a way to send you my love!” Or, if somebody was mean to her or spoke unkindly to her, she’d say, “Jesus, I won’t get mad; I’ll just smile and pray for this person out of love for you.”

And everything she did became an act of love. Thérèse said that nothing we do is ever too small to help us become holy. Even picking up a piece of crumpled-up paper off the hallway floor in school can help us become a saint if we do it out of love for Jesus.

St. Thérèse is one of my favorite saints. Lots of times we feel people are putting pressure on us—or we put pressure on ourselves—to do big things… great things. “I have to get 100 on my test… I have to be the high-scorer in this basketball game… I’ve got to play this song without making a single mistake…”

But St. Thérèse just smiles and tells us that God loves us very much, and he’ll keep loving us no matter what. Sure, He wants us do our best, but it’s a lot more important to love than it is to succeed in those kinds of things.

St. Thérèse died when she was just 24 years old. She went from living at home to living behind the walls of a convent. She never made a scientific discovery. She never made a lot of money. She never did a lot of things.

Yet God tells us through His Church that she is one of the greatest saints who ever lived… because she knew exactly how to be that little child who Jesus stood in the middle of his group of disciples.

You can be just like St. Thérèse, too. You can be a great saint. It’s really very simple. Just pray every day and ask Jesus to show you the way. And remember always to love.

September 26, 2004: Spiritual Omission

The Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

A friend of mine from Atlanta told me a funny story not too long ago. He was getting ready to leave on a business trip when he realized that he needed some same-day dry cleaning. He remembered passing a store with a huge sign that read, “One-Hour Dry Cleaners,” so he drove over there first thing in the morning to drop off his suit. He told the clerk, “I need this back in an hour.”

She said, “Oh, I’m sorry, but I can’t get it back to you until Thursday.”

“But I thought you did dry cleaning in an hour!” my friend said.

“No,” she said. “That’s just the name of our store.”

There’s a message in there for those of us who call ourselves Catholics. If we identify ourselves as such but then don’t follow through… if we fail to act like Christ… then we create confusion and disillusionment for people who don’t yet believe or whose faith is weak… scandal, you might say.

I bring this up because the Gospel parable about Lazarus illustrates the same point. The rich man identifies himself as an observant Jew—a son of Abraham. He even addresses Abraham as “Father Abraham.” He hasn’t been a bad sort, really. And it’s not a sin to be wealthy or to eat well. Yet somehow he didn’t reach out enough and share the blessings God had bestowed on him with his neighbor in need—personified by poor Lazarus, covered with sores and famished, lying at his doorstep. You see, it was, and is, an affirmative obligation of every Jew to practice tzedakah—charity, justice, righteousness.

So through the rich man’s omission, he missed a crucial chance to serve God. In fact, if he had only made sure that Lazarus had a morsel to eat and a cloak to wear—such easy things for the wealthy, really!—that rich man would have been a decent person in God’s eyes and would have been welcomed to share the Father’s presence. Instead, the rich man remained so closed up on himself and his own circle of rich family members and friends, that he missed his chance to make it into heaven. Jesus tells the Pharisees this story in the hope that they won’t make the same mistake.

Even with our New Testament mentality, Jesus fully expects us to live by the same standard. It’s not enough to be a “basically good person.” It’s not enough that we do no harm. No, we must go out of our way to do works of charity and share the gifts that God has given us—whether it’s our wealth, our time or our labors of love.

Happily, I think most of us here today know this. You are very generous in supporting your church and community. You drop your envelopes in the basket, you volunteer your time, and you help out in so many ways. So maybe you’re thinking—very privately, of course—“whew! that’s one parable that’s not aimed at me.”

Well, let me burst your bubble just a little! That’s the same point that Our Lord made in another famous parable: the one about the tax-collector and the Pharisee. The righteous Pharisee said, “Thank God I’m not like that awful tax-collector!” while the tax-collector cast his eyes down and beat his chest while he prayed, “Have mercy on me, a sinner.” Jesus told us the humble tax-collector was the better man in God’s eyes!

My point is this: our mercy towards other people is not just meant to be of the physical kind, but also of the spiritual kind. How are you doing in that department?

Are you giving good example and witness by praying openly? When was the last time you said grace in a restaurant—or at home, for that matter? Do you go to confession regularly and give public witness that you’re not too proud to seek God’s mercy? Do you come to Mass and invite people who don’t normally go to church to join you in this highest expression of worship in the whole world? Do you live an active faith life and prayer life at home with your children and family—praying together, speaking about God, the angels, the saints? Do you do your duty as parents and send your children to Catholic school instead of public school? Do you stand up and defend your religion when someone challenges you or makes a moral claim that is obviously in error, or do you just keep quiet and let it pass? Do you talk about Jesus with friends and relatives and make Him an important friend and topic of conversation in your life—or is He just a private, Sunday thing? Shhh… In other words, are you living a proud, Catholic life for all the world to see or are you living a life of spiritual omission, hiding your light under a bushel basket?

Let me challenge you further with a follow-up question: what do you suppose God thinks of the kind of Catholic life you’re leading? To put it into perspective, I think the rich man in the Gospel, while he was still alive, would have rated himself pretty well… yet unfortunately, he was gauging himself by the world’s standard… not by Christ’s. And as Jesus teaches us today, that’s not good enough at all.

The rich man in the parable today, as we know, didn’t find this out until it was too late. His life was over and there was nothing more he could do.

For us, fortunately, there is still the time and a way to fix things. God wants each and every one of us to be saved—but as a pre-condition, He wants us to choose to be the loving and generous person He created us to be. Don’t wait to get hit over the head with a lightning bolt, because it probably isn’t going to happen. Instead, hear God tugging at your heartstrings and your conscience.

Don’t be afraid to rise to His challenge. The Lord will help you step by step. He’ll take you under His wing and gently show you the way if you let Him. May this message touch your heart and draw you more deeply into God’s love. Amen.


Today’s Readings:
Amos 6, 1–7
Psalm 146
1 Timothy 6, 11–16
Luke 16, 19–31