Teaching with Authority

+ The Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s Readings:Deut. 18: 15–20; Ps. 95; 1 Cor. 7: 32–35; Mk. 1: 21–28

There’s story told about the USS Montana, one of our Navy battleships, that was out doing maneuvers on a foggy night. The navigation officer observed a light in the distance that seemed to indicate that another vessel was heading straight toward the ship. The signalman radioed a message: “Attention unknown vessel. This is the USS Montana. Alter your course ten degrees south.”

A message came right back: “Attention USS Montana. Alter your course ten degrees north.”

The captain was summoned. He personally took the radio. “I am a captain in the United States Navy and I am ordering you to bear ten degrees south immediately. Identify yourself and state your rank.”

He heard a feeble answer, “Sir, this is Seaman First Class Scott. You must turn ten degrees north.”

The captain was infuriated at the insubordination. He barked, “I am on the bridge of a battleship, and I am commanding you to bear ten degrees south.”

Seaman Scott radioed back, “But Sir, I am in a lighthouse. You must turn ten degrees north.”

This funny little tale actually illustrates an important truth about authority. A person’s authority is based on two factors: his credibility and the content of his message. In our story, clearly a U.S. Navy Captain carries more weight than a Seaman First Class. But the truth of the situation—there’s no way that a lighthouse is going to go anywhere—definitely shifts the authority equation. If the captain doesn’t swallow his pride and turn his ship, well… oops…

Most of us deal with matters of authority all the time. We’re always making judgments about who and what to believe. The problem is, we don’t always have a clear fix on who a person really is. What’s real and what’s bogus? And to know the genuine, underlying truth to a situation may be more difficult still.

The gospel today says that Jesus “taught with authority, not like the scribes and Pharisees.” The scribes and Pharisees, of course, taught their interpretation of the law. And we know they loved the ego-trip of their position in the Temple. Christ, on the other hand, wasn’t like that. He was powerful because he spoke like a man with authority and the words he spoke were true.

Over the course of his ministry, the proof of Jesus’ authority became clearer. He was kind and loving. He worked wonderful signs and wonders: healings of the sick, miracles of nature, reading minds and hearts. Everything he appeared to be was in complete balance and sync with the message he proclaimed, so both he and his teaching were filled with credibility and authority. He taught: love your enemies… be kind to one another… forgive those who harm you… turn the other cheek. Even from the cross he did just that; he forgave those who tortured him and were about to kill him. Christ spoke about God’s kingdom and lived as the perfect member and model of that kingdom. So much so, that 2000 years later, we still believe him.

But what about us regular people? It’s a funny thing. Most of us want what Aretha Franklin sang about: R-E-S-P-E-­C-T—even if there may be a less noble and less deserving side to who we are. You must listen to me because I deserve respect: I’m the father… I’m the teacher… I’m the boss… I’m the experienced one… I’m older… And more often than not, who we are, or the position we hold, speaks louder than words. But does our position or title guarantee our authority? Only if there’s real truth in the message and our image and our message are consistent.

I can’t tell you how many times people have complained to me about the nasty treatment they received from some priest. As a result, some of them unfortunately quit going to church entirely. But think about it. It’s not right to stop going to your church because of a problem with a priest. If you don’t like your haircut you change stylists; you don’t refuse to ever get another haircut! Isn’t it interesting that the priest who is supposed to lead people in following Christ spoke louder by being unkind than if he had screamed at the congregation during his Sunday sermon.

During the past few years, the media have reported all kinds of stories stemming from the clergy sex abuse scandal. There’s no question that priests who hurt children should be punished. Even so, the message that they had been preaching from their pulpits for years was still true. Sadly, much of their message has now been lost. Those priests were not true to their own message and as a result, their credibility—their authority—was damaged and possibly even destroyed.

Parents want their children to be kind. But if the kids see Mom and Dad being nasty to each other or bad-mouthing other people, they are going to learn nastiness, not kindness, as the standard way of acting. If the parents tell the children to be honest, but then laugh about cheating on their taxes or quietly pocket the money if a sales clerk gives them too much change, aren’t the parents sending a message that is a lot louder than their words?

We know of organizations that are supposed to help people live good Christian lives and bring the love of Christ to the world. Their leaders preach forgiveness, tolerance, and so many other beautiful virtues… but then turn around and venomously bash people who don’t fit into their mold. Isn’t it something that these organizations can raise tons of money for charity, but they can only claim to be charitable, because their uncharitableness towards others, not their gifts of charity, defines who they really are.

Jesus was not like that. He was not like the scribes and Pharisees. He had real authority. He wasn’t two-faced. He wasn’t a hypocrite. He didn’t have a dark side to his life that he kept hidden. He didn’t just speak the truth, he was the truth and lived the truth. Jesus gave orders to unclean spirits and they obeyed him. It wasn’t the words that kicked the devil out, but the person who spoke those words.

Jesus wants us to have that kind of authority, too. In Luke’s gospel, he says, “If you had faith like a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and be planted in the sea’; and it would obey you” (Lk 17: 6). The lesson is that kind of authority comes from being congruent: a fancy word that simply means that your life on the inside is exactly the same as your life on the outside. What you are and what you believe are identical to what you say and what you do.

If trees aren’t obeying you… if other people don’t always seem to put a lot of stock in your words… maybe it’s time to take a good look inside yourself and see where the real you and your outer actions and words go off in different directions. Jesus can help you fix all that. Turn to him and ask for his guidance and strength to get all of you onto the one, right track. Let him help you become more like him: a person of authority.

Come, Follow Me

+ THE THIRD SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME
Today’s Readings: Jonah 3: 1–5, 10; Ps. 25; 1 Cor 7: 29–31; Mk 1: 14–20


The story is told that Time Magazine assigned one of its photographers to go out and take pictures of a forest fire. They told him a small plane would be waiting at the airport to fly him over the fire.

The photographer arrived at the airstrip just an hour before sundown. Sure enough, a small Cessna airplane stood waiting. He jumped in with his equipment and shouted, “Let’s go!” The pilot was a tense-looking man. He turned the plane into the wind, and soon they were in the air—but flying rather erratically.

The photographer was craning around and looking out the windows to find the best angle for his shots. He said, “Fly over the north side of the fire and make several low-level passes.”

“Why?” asked the nervous pilot.

“Because I’m going to take pictures!” yelled the photographer. “I’m a photographer, and that’s what photographers do. We take pictures.”

The pilot stuttered in reply, “You mean… you’re not the flight instructor?”

When Our Lord invites us to come a little closer to Him—to venture a little deeper into the ways of holiness—sometimes we feel like that student-pilot: way, way out on a limb. I think it’s a natural reaction to feel kind of nervous when you realize that you’re on the brink of a “God experience.”

And just to make things a little dicier, remember that we are creatures with true free will—so we can choose what to do. Do we turn and hightail it out of there, or do we step off the cliff into the vast unknown?

Our mass readings today illustrate both options.

We start with Jonah. You all know the story of Jonah being swallowed up by the whale. It all began when God told Jonah to go to the great pagan city of Nineveh and announce to the people that because of their great immorality, God’s wrath was coming upon them. If you look at a map of the ancient Near East, you’ll see that Nineveh lies to the northeast of Palestine. But Jonah went west. He hopped a ship to take him as far away as he could get from where the Lord wanted him to go. Why did he run away? Because he thought the mission was far too dangerous. Imagine a Hebrew preaching repentance in a pagan city! He hoped that God would find someone else to send on the mission.

A huge storm came up. The sailors were scared and started to pray to their pagan gods without success. They asked Jonah if he had done anything to offend his god. He told them that he was running away from God because he didn’t want to go on the mission to Nineveh. That’s when the crew summarily picked Jonah up and tossed him overboard into the sea. Immediately, the calm weather returned. And poor Jonah cried out to God for help.

God helped, but not in a very pleasant way. He sent a huge fish along, which gobbled up Jonah whole. Part of the humor is that the whale found that Jonah was so sour, he couldn’t stand having him for lunch—so he belched him up on the shore. And that’s where today’s reading begins. Jonah found that he had no choice but to journey to Nineveh and do as God asked of him.

And guess what? God worked mightily through Jonah, making his preaching forceful and successful. The people repented and the Lord spared them.

Now fast-forward to the gospel. Once again, we’re at the seashore. Two sets of brothers—Simon and Andrew, and James and John—were busy working at their fishing livelihood. The first two were trawling for fish. The other pair was mending their nets. Jesus walked by and called to them, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.”

And once again, we’re at a critical moment of decision. Do we or don’t we?

The Gospel says that all four of them immediately abandoned their nets—and James and John quit their crew and family, as well—so they could go off and follow Jesus.

Of course we know that Simon became Peter, the greatest of the apostles and the first pope… and John became the “beloved disciple” and author of the fourth gospel—and the other two were highly-favored apostles, as well… doing so much to establish our Church that today encompasses more than one billion souls.

The lesson for us to take away is a simple one in theory, if not in practice: when the Lord makes us an offer we can’t refuse, we really can’t refuse! We can’t let our fears, our possessions, or even our friends and families stand in our way. Instead, we’ve got to seize the day, reminding ourselves that if God has dropped a dramatic opportunity or situation in our lap, then he is going to see us through it—no matter how unlikely success may appear from a purely human perspective.

And since God is in control of everything, that just about covers it. I’d say we’re in pretty good hands!

Pray frequently for the light and wisdom of the Holy Spirit to help you figure out what God is asking of you as you make your way through life—or in the words of today’s psalm, “Teach me your ways, O Lord.” Also pray for courage, determination and a deep enough faith to plow ahead without fear. Your journey is bound to be extraordinary!

Seeking the Lamb of God

+ THE SECOND SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME
Today’s Readings: 1 Sam 3: 3–10, 19; Ps 40; 1 Cor 6: 13–20; Jn 1: 35–42


When I was in college in New York, my roommate, Frank, was a Hungarian. He was born there and his family emigrated to America when the communist revolution broke out in 1956. Frank was just a child.

Whenever Frank’s dad called him on the phone, they’d jabber away in Hungarian—and I thought it was really a fascinating-sounding language… so interesting, in fact, that I thought I’d try to learn a little bit of it. I found an old lady who was willing to give me lessons, and for a while I used to take the subway uptown to her musty Upper East Side apartment where she taught me the basics of magyarul—Hungarian. I would come back and practice on Frank, and he would roll on the floor laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I’d ask him. He said, “You sound like an old lady!”

Be that as it may, I think lots of us take things up because we’re intrigued by some influential person that we know. For instance, lots of kids wanted to learn guitar because they were under the spell of a rock star or a folk singer or a friend of theirs who played really well. Some people try to take on a new style of dress because they want to be cool like someone they know. Others might get involved in new and different activities—anything from volunteering, to trying out for a part in a play, to learning to cook Japanese food, to skydiving—because they’ve been influenced by someone they admire.

We human beings are very social. We want to fit in. We want to belong to something that stretches us and fulfills us and brings us a lot of enjoyment.

That’s why today’s gospel is so fantastic. Here was Andrew and another unnamed fellow—both disciples of John the Baptist. John sees Jesus and just like the day before (Jn 1: 29-34) he says, “Behold, the Lamb of God!”

Can’t you just see Andrew’s head turn as he sizes up Jesus for the first time. Something about this man must have intrigued Andrew and his friend, because we hear that the two of them got up and started to follow the Lord. Before long, Jesus turned around and spotted them tailing him. “What are you guys looking for?” he asked. The Lord is always trying to make us ask ourselves this question.

They answered with a question: “Where are you staying?” And Jesus must have smiled and winked. “Come on with me and you’ll see.” So off they went with their new friend. I’ll bet they had no idea what they were getting into that day!

Where was Jesus staying? Remember the Lord’s famous line: “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (Lk 9: 58). In other words, Andrew and friend got to see Christ up close for the first time doing his holy work among the good people of Judea.

And guess what? By 4 o’clock in the afternoon, according to the gospel, Andrew found his brother Simon and exclaimed, “We have found the Messiah!”

Andrew, his fellow disciple, and Simon were all hooked! They found the Messiah and made up their minds to give him their very lives. So long, John the Baptist… hello, Jesus Christ. They found their true vocation… and it was a vocation based on zeal and passion.

I wonder what these simple men wanted from the Lord. Personal growth and holiness, I’m sure. Maybe they were attracted by Jesus’ incredible magnetism and wanted to be like him. Maybe they wanted to learn how to practice faith-healing or work miracles. Or maybe they sensed that in some unknown way they could become instruments in God’s hands or even prophets. Who knows? It’s all very mysterious, and we’ll never know for sure what went through their minds.

But the important lesson here is that each and every one of us also has a God-given vocation, and it’s so important for us to find it and do it… first, because it’s God’s gift to us… second, because it’s God’s will for us… and third, because it is guaranteed to bring us joy and unlock the passion that’s inside us.

Lucky Andrew had John the Baptist to say, “Hey, Andy! There’s the Lamb of God! Go!”

But what about you? Is there someone or something that can grab your attention and focus it on the Lamb of God so you can find him, too?

We live busy lives. Very busy lives. So many of us try to fill in all the spaces with activities and projects and a million things to do. But where’s Jesus? If you sense an emptiness or a barrenness in your soul—perhaps a nagging feeling that there should be something more or that God has better plans for you—then just maybe it’s time you carve out a little space for yourself and go hunting for him. Some quiet time with your bible… a little time before the Blessed Sacrament… a walk alone with your dog through the fields… these are all wonderful and simple ways to block out the usual noise of the world and seek out the Son of God.

The holidays are now behind us—and we’ve still got 6½ weeks before we have to start thinking about Lent—so this is a perfect time to get reconnected. May the Lamb of God touch your heart and start to draw you to himself.

Seek the Lord with Courage

+ FEAST OF THE EPIPHANY
Today’s Readings: Isa. 60: 1–6; Ps. 72; Eph. 3: 2–6; Mt. 2: 1–12


Today we celebrate the feast of the Epiphany: the day when it was revealed to the Gentiles that the Messiah had come to earth. As we just heard in the gospel, the Magi were the first of these non-Jews to discover Jesus Christ.

Actually, the three wise men did more than just discover or stumble upon Jesus. They went to a lot of trouble to look for him. They journeyed from Persia to Jerusalem, perhaps on camels. If you check an atlas, that’s a distance of about 1000 to 1200 miles. Imagine riding a camel from Cullom to Miami. That’s about the same trip. You’d have to be pretty determined…

And not only that. The roads in those days were brutally dangerous. You could run into wild animals. The main travel routes were also notorious for their robbers—and don’t forget, the Magi were carrying valuables: gold, frankincense and myrrh.

On top of all that, their quest was kind of fuzzy. They came before Herod with only sketchy details about some newborn king of the Jews. And we mustn’t forget that later on, Herod would be mighty interested in finding the Christ child so he could slay him—so in addition to everything else, the wise men became sort of fugitives.

Yes, I think you have to agree that all in all, the Magi’s adventure was pretty bold and courageous.

Consider by contrast our own rather soft lives. Are we at all like the wise men? Do we boldly and fearlessly seek to encounter Jesus in our lives—or are we kind of timid in our faith journey?

If you look up in the sky, I doubt you’ll see a bright star that will guide you to Jesus. Yes, we have the church to help us find him and follow him as disciples… but wonderful as church can be, this is really a place to prepare for the journey, not our final destination. St. Paul in his epistles, the popes through the ages and so many of the saints keep reminding us that we’ll find Jesus in the faces of others: strangers, and maybe even friends and family. Not in church, but out there—in the real world. Mother Teresa always spoke about the sick and dying people she found in the streets of Calcutta as “Jesus in his most distressing disguise.” She loved them and cherished them and pampered them as if they were Christ himself—which they really were… and still are!

Maybe a spark of faith will get you excited about this so you promise yourself, “Yes! I’m going to go out and live boldly too.” But sadly, you never know where that bogey man Herod might be lurking! He’s always out to destroy Jesus. Maybe the way he’ll do that with you today is by laughing at you for your idealism, or for teasing you about being a goody two-shoes, or simply by gently diverting you from the Lord with other enticements—money, sex, popularity, TV, shopping, or who knows what… whatever turns you on.

Basically, if we are going to make our way in this tough world, what we need is a good dose of courage. You know, today is the actually the last day of the Christmas season, so maybe we can imagine that courage is a unopened special gift we just found in the bottom of our Christmas stocking.

Courage helps us look problems in the eye, rather than look the other way. God wants us to live heroically and bravely—like the Magi.

Courage is kind of like a muscle. The more we use it, the stronger we will become. If we cower in fear, our courage muscle will atrophy and waste away from lack of use. To know what to do and not do it is the worst cowardice. There’s an old Italian proverb that reminds us it is better to live one day as a lion than a hundred years as a sheep.

Great courage is needed by each and every one of us to confront injustice in our world. We’ve got to speak out against familiar prejudices like racism, sexism, ageism, and all the other -isms. It takes courage to feed your enemies, rather than use food as a political weapon. It takes courage to love your enemies, rather than try to blow them up or oppress them. Only the brave will change old ways of thinking and acting, while learning how to treat people with respect, equality and dignity. Why bother? Because just as Mother Teresa knew, they’re Jesus.

Courage is needed to stand up and speak the truth, and it’s needed to sit down and listen to each other. So often, in a quest to win souls, people can be horrible and nasty to each other, condemning them, tearing them down, pointing out with glee that they’re going to hell. So yes, it often takes courage to stand up to our so-called friends and allies and remind them that whenever we possibly can, we should be gentle and kind and accepting of each other, rather than condemnatory, mean-spirited or vitriolic. Great strength and courage are needed when we strive to work together to find peaceable, nonviolent ways to bring about reconciliation, forgiveness and healing.

It’s a big task. You might ask, where does such courage come from? From God, of course. God is our source of strength and confidence and courage. And at the times we may not sense it, that’s when we’re called to wait alertly and patiently for it.

Like the Magi, let us pray with humble expectation, confidence and wonder that you might bravely seek the Lord in your own corner of the world. May the Holy Spirit richly endow you with all the gifts you need to do just that.