Sept 25, 2011 - A man had two sons...

September 25, 2011 - Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

First Reading - Ezekiel 18:25-28
Thus says the LORD: You say, "The LORD's way is not fair!" Hear now, house of Israel: Is it my way that is unfair, or rather, are not your ways unfair? When someone virtuous turns away from virtue to commit iniquity, and dies, it is because of the iniquity he committed that he must die. But if he turns from the wickedness he has committed, he does what is right and just, he shall preserve his life; since he has turned away from all the sins that he has committed, he shall surely live, he shall not die.


Responsorial Psalm - Psalm 25:4-5, 8-9, 10, 14.
R. (6a) Remember your mercies, O Lord.
Your ways, O LORD, make known to me; teach me your paths,
guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my savior.
R. Remember your mercies, O Lord.
Remember that your compassion, O LORD, and your love are from of old. The sins of my youth and my frailties remember not; in your kindness remember me, because of your goodness, O LORD.
R. Remember your mercies, O Lord.
Good and upright is the LORD; thus he shows sinners the way.
He guides the humble to justice, and teaches the humble his way.
R. Remember your mercies, O Lord.


Second Reading - Philippians 2:1-11
Brothers and sisters: If there is any encouragement in Christ, any solace in love, any participation in the Spirit, any compassion and mercy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, with the same love, united in heart, thinking one thing. Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory; rather, humbly regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for his own interests, but also for those of others.


Have in you the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus, Who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Because of this, God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.




Gospel - Matthew 21:28-32
Jesus said to the chief priests and elders of the people: "What is your opinion? A man had two sons. He came to the first and said, 'Son, go out and work in the vineyard today.' He said in reply, 'I will not, ' but afterwards changed his mind and went. The man came to the other son and gave the same order. He said in reply, 'Yes, sir, 'but did not go. Which of the two did his father's will?"


They answered, "The first." Jesus said to them, "Amen, I say to you, tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you. When John came to you in the way of righteousness, you did not believe him; but tax collectors and prostitutes did. Yet even when you saw that, you did not later change your minds and believe him."


Reflection


The parable of the two sons takes place at a point in Matthew’s Gospel when the religious authorities are challenging Jesus’ recent series of public acts. Not only had he been healing the sick and claiming authority to forgive sins, Jesus had just driven the merchants and moneychangers from the Temple, denouncing in dramatic fashion the un-holy commerce that had come to occupy the sacred space. The Pharisees, Scribes, and Priests were the recognized religious authorities of the Jewish people, so who was this common carpenter from a blue-collar town, with no priestly blood (one had to be from the tribe of Levi) nor formal rabbinical training, to carry out so presumptuous a public ministry?


Rather than yield to their interrogation, Jesus takes control of the encounter and tells them a story. One of the primary criticisms of Jesus’ detractors had been that he was violating Jewish law on cleanliness (and thus holiness) by socializing with the likes of prostitutes and tax collectors. The laws of Torah were concerned primarily with who was considered clean and unclean, that they might be fit to worship at Temple, the central act of Jewish religious practice at the time. The Pharisees, therefore, had made it their defining attribute to know every single one of the 613 laws that determined who was clean (holy) and who was not.


Cleanliness, and thus holiness, was viewed not only as an internal state, but as a social standing, that is, as a matter of honor. One could become unclean, and thus lose one’s honor, not only by one’s own actions, but through “guilt by association,” so to speak. A father could become dishonored by the behavior of his children. A husband could become dishonored by the infidelity of his wife. Un-holiness was contagious. (It is for this reason that Joseph tried to divorce Mary quietly; he did not wish for her to be publicly shamed, but he also feared that his own family would be dishonored by the supposed infidelity.)


It is here that Jesus’ parable picks up. The man who orders his sons to go work in the vineyard is presumably a man of very high honor—after all, he owns his own vineyard. For one of his sons to publicly refuse his father in such a way would be a very great scandal. It would be akin to the son of a Senator being arrested for dealing cocaine at his high school. People would not only think the son had done something wrong, they would begin to whisper to each other about how fit the father was for leadership if he could not even control his own son.


Jesus’ analogy would have been obvious to his listeners; the Pharisees and Priests concerned themselves with public adherence to the Law, but behind closed doors, many of them failed to live out its spirit. The tax collectors and prostitutes with whom Jesus associated may have appeared to reject the Law outwardly, but the fact that they then followed Jesus around indicated that they were at least trying to rehabilitate themselves inwardly.


Repeatedly, Jesus calls out the religious authorities for their obsession with the minutiae of the Law, of making it their business to demarcate which individuals were holy and which were not, but that these same individuals seemed to have lost all sense of the underlying point of the Law. The Law, as it was given to the people Israel, was not primarily about who could worship at Temple, and who could not. It was, at its core, about relationships.


A particular law, such as what one was required to do if one accidentally killed a neighbor’s animal, were designed to make sure that people got along well with one another and that such situations wouldn’t result in an all out feud between neighboring families. The point wasn’t that, if one killed a neighbor’s goat, one was therefore unfit to worship at Temple. The point was, rather, that one had committed an injustice against a neighbor, and before one could go present oneself to the Lord, one had to first make things right with the other person.


Returning to the parable, the Priests and Pharisees were very concerned with keeping up public appearances, but they seem wholly uninterested in using their knowledge of the Law to help people like prostitutes and tax collectors rejoin the community and rehabilitate their relationships with God and others. Instead, they simply wrote these groups off as “unholy,” and left it at that. The purpose of the Law was to help people grow in deeper relationship with God and neighbor; the religious authorities of Jesus’ day were using it to cut people off from relationship. In other words, by proclaiming the Law aloud, they were like the first son, saying, “Yes,” to the Father, but failing to do the Father’s will, whereas the tax collectors and prostitutes were like the second son who, by sinning publicly, were saying, “No,” to the Father, but who by following Jesus and seeking to learn from him, were actually doing what God hoped for them.


This parable continues to have enormous importance for us today, especially those of us who are devout adherents to the public aspects of our faith. Like the Pharisees of Jesus’ day, we may come to associate holiness with public gestures like going to Mass and being able to recite Church teaching on various topics. But do we understanding the underlying PURPOSE of those things? Do we see the value of keeping holy the Sabbath on a deeper level, on a level of cultivating our relationship with God and building a community of believers with our neighbors? Or do we simply say, “I make it to Mass every week.”


Do we recite the Church’s teaching on sex outside of marriage because we truly appreciate the dignity and beauty of the sexual act and wish for others to enjoy the fullness of flourishing in human romantic relationships? Or do we simply wield the moral law as an axe to cut off the “unholy” people we know who are having sex and engaging in all manner of sin? Do we say to the tax collectors and prostitutes of our own daily life, be it on a college campus or in an office building, that they are unwelcome from the community until they clean their act up? Or do we, as Jesus did, attempt to reach out to such people and have their first encounter with us be one of love, rather than one of judgment?


We might ask ourselves, in what ways are we the first son, publicly professing our commitment to God, but privately failing to live up to all it entails? When we offer our petitions at Mass and pray aloud for the homeless, the poor, those who suffer violence, do we follow through on our prayer by taking some substantive action to assist those in need? We say during the Creed at Mass that we believe in “the forgiveness of sins,” but do we truly believe that we are forgiven, or do we cling to our guilt and unworthiness, refusing to accept forgiveness?


We might also ask ourselves, in what ways are we the second son, publicly failing to live up to the ideals of our faith, but struggling internally to search for truth and the right path? What have we done that is less than our best selves, but that we sincerely search for what God wishes for us to do, moving forward? Jesus’ words do not only apply to the people of his day—they pertain us now, and their force is not diminished. The good news is—the message that ought to give us great hope—that in Jesus’ other parable about a father with two sons, the whole point is that there is literally nothing we can do to put ourselves beyond the limitless mercy and unconditional love of that father. Even when we are the second son, there is an enormous celebration waiting to be thrown upon our return.


Link to the Google Doc for download: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_siyHCMh5IWjC8J1voK_1_xYQ66blrh6DtwLe6oMysY/edit?hl=en_US

Questions for Reflection

1) In what sense are you the first son, who publicly says, “Yes,” to God, but who privately fails to live out that profession?


2) In what sense are you the second son, who publicly refuses to carry out some particular instruction, but who ultimately tries to make it right in private?


3) How are you called to witness to others, particularly those who might be designated as the tax collectors or prostitutes of your own daily experience? What does your faith compel you to do in terms of relating to them? Does it require anything at all?

Sept 18, 2011 - Are you jealous?

September 18, 2011 - Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

First Reading - Isaiah 55:6-9

Seek the LORD while he may be found, call him while he is near. Let the scoundrel forsake his way, and the wicked his thoughts; let him turn to the LORD for mercy; to our God, who is generous in forgiving. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above your ways and my thoughts above your thoughts.

Responsorial Psalm - 145:2-3, 8-9, 17-18

R. (18a) The Lord is near to all who call upon him.
Every day will I bless you, and I will praise your name forever and ever.
Great is the LORD and highly to be praised; his greatness is unsearchable.
R. The Lord is near to all who call upon him.
The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness.
The LORD is good to all and compassionate toward all his works.
R. The Lord is near to all who call upon him.
The LORD is just in all his ways and holy in all his works.
The LORD is near to all who call upon him, to all who call upon him in truth.
R. The Lord is near to all who call upon him.

Second Reading - Philippians 1:20c-24, 27a

Brothers and sisters: Christ will be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death.
For to me life is Christ, and death is gain. If I go on living in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. And I do not know which I shall choose. I am caught between the two. I long to depart this life and be with Christ, for that is far better. Yet that I remain in the flesh is more necessary for your benefit. Only, conduct yourselves in a way worthy of the gospel of Christ.

Gospel - Matthew 20:1-16a

Jesus told his disciples this parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with them for the usual daily wage,he sent them into his vineyard. Going out about nine o'clock, the landowner saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and he said to them, 'You too go into my vineyard, and I will give you what is just.' So they went off. And he went out again around noon, and around three o'clock, and did likewise. Going out about five o'clock, the landowner found others standing around, and said to them, 'Why do you stand here idle all day?' They answered, 'Because no one has hired us.' He said to them, 'You too go into my vineyard.'

When it was evening the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, 'Summon the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and ending with the first.' When those who had started about five o'clock came, each received the usual daily wage. So when the first came, they thought that they would receive more, but each of them also got the usual wage.

And on receiving it they grumbled against the landowner, saying, 'These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us, who bore the day's burden and the heat.' He said to one of them in reply, 'My friend, I am not cheating you. Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what is yours and go. What if I wish to give this last one the same as you? Or am I not free to do as I wish with my own money? Are you envious because I am generous?' Thus, the last will be first, and the first will be last."

Reflection

On Christmas morning, each of the children bounded down the stairs and raced towards the living room, their woolen socks sliding across the polished hardwood floor, their eyes wide with expectant joy, their hearts pounding restlessly with anticipation. One by one, each of the four children squealed with delight as she or he discovered a magnificently wrapped package under the tree designated for him or her. They seized the boxes, furiously tearing through wrapping paper and tossing aside cellophane to uncover the present within. Josie got a dollhouse—a brilliant white Victorian with pastel pink and blue trim. Tim, a bit older, found a bike helmet, which was actually only part of his present, since a new bike awaited him in the driveway outside. Alyssa received some new clothes, and Alex, the oldest, got a digital camera, his first.

But before any of the children began to enjoy his/her own present, all immediately began scanning the room to compare their own with those received by the others. Tim’s bike certainly looked expensive, Alyssa thought; especially compared to a couple of sweaters and some jeans. That digital camera couldn’t have been cheap, Tim remarked silently to himself. As the morning went on, and the siblings unpacked the rest of their presents, opening gifts from their grandparents, emptying out the smaller items in their stockings, each made a mental list of what the others had received, comparing it to their own pile and trying to figure out how much money had been spent.

Such is the theme of today’s Gospel, and it’s a persistent one in human life. So pervasive is this human tendency to compare and feel jealous that we often times do not even realize we are doing it. I remember, one time, listening to a group of girls about to graduate from high school, talk about where each was going to college. But accompanying the discussion of their own schools were comments about where other classmates of theirs were headed—always with editorials to the effect of, “…I’m still mad Allie got accepted at Loyola when I got wait-listed. I got better grades than her AND I applied early!”

Intermingled with the excitement over their own college destinations was jealousy, bitterness, and resentment about the perceived injustice of the whole process. That certain people who didn’t “deserve” to get in had been accepted one place, while others who worked much harder were turned down.

So often in life, we get so caught up in the comparisons that we do not even enjoy our own accomplishments or gifts! The runner who sets a PR at the marathon, but who still finishes behind her friend. The law student whose article is accepted for publication in a Law Journal, or offered an associate-ship at a firm, but not a journal or firm as prestigious as those his roommate had managed to get. Instead of celebrating the blessing of being offered a job at all, we wallow in resentment at the blessings enjoyed by another. Especially those that are perceived as unfair.

Jealousy poisons our relationships with others, Jesus tells us, and it is wholly incompatible with the joy of the Kingdom. The master of the vineyard did not owe the laborers hanging out in town anything. It was out of generosity that he invited them to come work in his field. In fact, these workers were just standing around, waiting for something to pop up. The master goes to them! He is the one to initiate this whole relationship. So it is with God—always, God reaches out to us, drives to where WE ARE, rather than waiting for us to come to him.

At the end of the day, when it comes time to receive the reward for their hard labor, the men are not grateful to the master for this opportunity—rather, they focus on the “unfairness” of his decision to pay everyone equally. Such is the nature of jealousy—it prevents us from enjoying that which is meant to be blessing! Instead of the various men expressing their appreciation and thinking how they will spend the money, e.g. to buy dinner for their family or patch the hole in their roof, they become consumed by indignation towards both their benefactor and their peers. How toxic is such jealousy! It is able to transform the experience of receiving a gift, and to turn it into a negative experience, just like the children on Christmas morning who, rather than run outside to try out their new bike or take photos of the snow with the new camera, instead sit and stew over the sense of perceived inequality. Or, again, the college-bound seniors who, rather than articulate their gratitude even to be able to go to college and their excitement over starting at the new school, instead devote some of their energy to grumbling about their classmates who didn’t deserve to get in where they did.

We often think of “sin” as acts—stealing an ice cream bar from the lunch stand; lying to a friend; skipping Mass. Doing things (or failing to do things). But throughout the Gospels, and especially in Matthew, Jesus encourages us to conceive of sin as a disposition—an attitude, or way of being in the world. A mode of going through life. And it is these attitudes with which he takes the greatest issue—rather than striking your brother, it’s problematic to harbor enmity or anger in your heart towards him. Rather than committing adultery, it’s problematic to go around cultivating an attitude towards members of the opposite sex as though they were primarily physical objects of our gratification, rather than whole persons with whom we ought to be in full human relationship. And here, the problem is in failing to feel gratitude to God for the many blessing in our own life, and instead to become jealous at the perceived blessings others are receiving, relative to us. Thus, too, to allow jealousy and rivalry to take root.

What each of these attitudes, or ways-of-being, has in common, Jesus tells us, is that they are not of God and not conducive to a life of human flourishing. They are, rather, utterly antithetical to the joy of Heaven to which we are called and the life of selfless love to which we aspire. If we allow it, it will infect every moment of our day, preventing us ever from enjoying the beauty of the world and the fullness of relationship.

If we go to a wedding reception, and all we can focus on is, “How nice it must be to have rich parents who can afford to throw such an extravagant affair at such a posh hotel,” then we will be unable to celebrate authentic joy with our friend that s/he has found the person to spend the rest of his/her life with, and that we are invited to be a part of that life. Jesus calls us to let go of these jealousies, to relinquish those sources of bitterness to which we cling so tenaciously, so that we might truly enjoy the many blessings in our own life and celebrate the blessings in the lives of those around us. Only then will we begin to experience some taste of the joy that awaits us in the Kingdom.

Note: If you would like to print out a copy of this reflection, here is a link to the public Google Doc: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1uchO0Az8gkAVBOzADeiBZlOANqOYi-zaqRcZCB7l8YE/edit?hl=en_US

Questions for Reflection

1) Can you think of any experiences from your own life when you compared what you had received with that given to someone else? Any time when you screamed aloud or thought to yourself, “No fair!”

2) Are there any areas of life where you are struggling to be grateful to God for what you have, relative to others? Romantic relationships? School awards or fellowships? Job offers? Do you think this frustration or bitterness affects your relationships with any of your friends or colleagues?

3) How does it strike you that, in the original parable, the master pays all of the workers the same wage? What might that mean for us, as Christians? Does it seem “unfair” to you that the individual who leads a life of wanton, reckless self-indulgence but who converts at age 87, might receive the same sized hut in Heaven that you, faithful Churchgoer who tries to live according to the Gospel, will? How do you reconcile Jesus’ description of God’s justice with your own?

Update on Reflections

Just by way of FYI...

Though my novice year with the Paulist Fathers is currently occupying the majority of my energies, I'm hoping to be able to continue to publish weekly reflections on the Sunday readings for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately, the constraints of my schedule will prevent me from getting them done in as timely a manner as I had previously, so I apologize for that! Please feel free to continue to use them in whatever manner you wish, and to pass them along to whomever you think might enjoy them! Thank you!

Sept 11, 2011 - 24th Sunday in Ord Time [Cycle A]

September 11, 2011 - Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

First Reading - Sirach 27:30-28:7

Wrath and anger are hateful things, yet the sinner hugs them tight. The vengeful will suffer the LORD's vengeance, for he remembers their sins in detail. Forgive your neighbor's injustice; then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven. Could anyone nourish anger against another and expect healing from the LORD? Could anyone refuse mercy to another like himself, can he seek pardon for his own sins? If one who is but flesh cherishes wrath, who will forgive his sins? Remember your last days, set enmity aside; remember death and decay, and cease from sin! Think of the commandments, hate not your neighbor; remember the Most High's covenant, and overlook faults.

Responsorial Psalm - Psalm 103:1-2, 3-4, 9-10, 11-12

R. (8) The Lord is kind and merciful, slow to anger, and rich in compassion.
Bless the LORD, O my soul; and all my being, bless his holy name.
Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.
R. The Lord is kind and merciful, slow to anger, and rich in compassion.
He pardons all your iniquities, heals all your ills.
redeems your life from destruction, he crowns you with kindness and compassion.
R. The Lord is kind and merciful, slow to anger, and rich in compassion.
He will not always chide, nor does he keep his wrath forever.
Not according to our sins does he deal with us, nor does he requite us according to our crimes.
R. The Lord is kind and merciful, slow to anger, and rich in compassion.
For as the heavens are high above the earth, so surpassing is his kindness toward those who fear him. As far as the east is from the west, so far has he put our transgressions from us.
R. The Lord is kind and merciful, slow to anger, and rich in compassion.

Reading 2 Rom 14:7-9

Brothers and sisters: None of us lives for oneself, and no one dies for oneself. For if we live, we live for the Lord, and if we die, we die for the Lord; so then, whether we live or die, we are the Lord's. For this is why Christ died and came to life, that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.

Gospel - Matthew 18:21-35

Peter approached Jesus and asked him, "Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive? As many as seven times?"

Jesus answered, "I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times. That is why the kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who decided to settle accounts with his servants. When he began the accounting, a debtor was brought before him who owed him a huge amount. Since he had no way of paying it back, his master ordered him to be sold, along with his wife, his children, and all his property, in payment of the debt. At that, the servant fell down, did him homage, and said, 'Be patient with me, and I will pay you back in full.'

Moved with compassion the master of that servant let him go and forgave him the loan.
When that servant had left, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a much smaller amount. He seized him and started to choke him, demanding, 'Pay back what you owe.'
Falling to his knees, his fellow servant begged him, 'Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.' But he refused. Instead, he had the fellow servant put in prison until he paid back the debt. Now when his fellow servants saw what had happened, they were deeply disturbed, and went to their master and reported the whole affair. His master summoned him and said to him, 'You wicked servant! I forgave you your entire debt because you begged me to. Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant, as I had pity on you?'

Then in anger his master handed him over to the torturers until he should pay back the whole debt. So will my heavenly Father do to you, unless each of you forgives your brother from your heart."

Reflection

Although it may seem as though these readings were selected deliberately to commemorate the 10^th anniversary of the September 11^th terrorist attacks on the United States, their timing is entirely Providential. By the grace of God, these just so happen to be the ordinarily prescribed passages for Cycle A of the Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, and they could not be more pertinent to us as we mourn and remember the tragic loss of life some ten years ago.

Both the first reading, from the Book of Sirach, and the Gospel passage from Matthew, exhort us to relinquish our tenacious grip on anger and to allow the healing power of forgiveness to enter into our hearts. Earlier in the Gospel of Matthew, during the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus had warned his disciples against cultivating grudges (Mat 5:21). “You have heard that it was said to your ancestors, ‘You shall not kill; and whoever kills will be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you, whoever is angry* with his brother will be liable to judgment.”

As discussed previously in these pages, there were two Greek words for “anger” that the evangelist could have employed, and the one he uses here does not refer to the natural, visceral outrage we feel when we witness an injustice or crime. Rather, the word Jesus chooses denotes a much deeper, more ingrained, more deliberately cultivated form of anger. It is the sort that we allow to take root in our heart, that we return to regularly, allowing it to fester and calcify. Eventually, this sort of hurt in our hearts seeps into other parts of our body and permeates our inter-personal relationships, becoming toxic to our own health and poisonous to our interactions with others.

Here again, we see Jesus delineating the dangers of refusing forgiveness. It is impossible to be a wholly-flourishing person if we carry around this sort of anger in our hearts, no matter what level of success we attain in other areas, be it academic awards, professional achievement, or athletic/artistic accomplishment. Eventually, jealousy, anger, resentment, and bitterness will adulterate even those good things, lending them an acrid and bitter taste.

Grudges do not harm the other person; they afflict us. Grudges do nothing to restore justice to the external cosmos; they merely prevent the return of harmony to our inner selves. No one, in the history of humankind, has ever recovered from surgery by ripping open the scab anew each day, and no one, in the long story of our race, has ever healed from anger by returning to it regularly with renewed vigor and intentionality.

Carrying around enmity in our hearts towards grade school classmates who teased us does nothing to take away those experiences. Giving the silent treatment to a housemate who consistently fails to wash the dishes or uses up the last of the milk or refuses to pay her share of the cable bill because she “hardly ever watches TV,” will not, in any way, help us to create justice in the household. It’ll only make us miserable.

So what do we do? How do we avoid wrath and anger? How do we forgive seventy times seven times… and then seventy after that? Key to learning how to forgive is understanding how the anger gets there in the first place.

All anger; all bitterness; all resentment can be reduced to a combination of fear, insecurity, and hurt. Nearly everyone who mistreats another, be it a suicide bomber in Gaza or an abusive husband in Detroit, does so out of some deep-seated, unresolved hurt of his/her own. Ordinary peasants who cannot afford to feed their families nor send their children to school are caused immense hurt when they see people from other nations enjoying those gifts cavalierly, perhaps even taking them for granted. This resentment increases when it is perceived that another country’s policies contribute directly—or even cause—the conditions of poverty and injustice being experienced every day.

Similarly, so much of the violence we inflict on one another, be it the teasing of middle school bullies; the gossiping of a group of sorority girls; or the arguments of a family gathering… boils down to insecurity, past hurt, and fear. If we can first recognize that those hurting us are hurting themselves, and it is this unaddressed hurt that is in fact leading them to lash out at us, it may be easier for us to forgive.

And yet, forgiveness is not a snap-of-the-fingers sort of thing. The author of SIrach is importuning the people Israel not to cling to wrath and desire vengeance, and yet this is certainly not a constant hymn throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. Dozens of Psalms recount the cries of that same people Israel that God bring down holy destruction upon enemies and wreak righteous damnation upon those who have hurt them. Forgiveness is a process. And at various stages of both our personal psycho-spiritual development and our collective national progress, we will be at different points.

While we must be constant in our aspiring to live Christ-like lives, and therefore to embody His call to forgive seventy times seven times, we must also be patient with our progress and recognize that such forgiveness will not always come easily nor quickly. When the wound is still raw, and the pain still lingering, it will be far more difficult for us to forgive; rather than hastily declare our half-developed forgiveness, it may be an opportunity for us to acknowledge that we are not, in fact, quite there yet. That we are not, if we are honest, totally ready to forgive, and therefore—and this is most important—to pray earnestly for the grace of God to make us more ready. The old adages, “time heals all wounds,” and “to err is human; to forgive divine,” are both deeply insightful and continually relevant. Forgiveness—true, authentic forgiveness—is unquestionably the domain of the Divine, and it is only by explicitly seeking such a capacity through the sanctifying power of grace, that it will be made possible.

We find ourselves ten years removed from a moment of heinous inhumanity, and as we consider this Sunday’s selections from Sirach and Matthew, we are presented with an opportunity: do we decide to ask God for the grace to forgive, and therefore to heal? Or do we harbor this animosity in our hearts towards those who perpetrated violence upon us? But this moment is not a unique one, nor this opportunity exceptional—we are presented with precisely this chance every single time we suffer the dehumanizing effects of sin and violence on a personal level and must decide whether or not to cultivate anger, bitterness, or resentment towards the person who hurt us. By the grace of God, let us hope we choose healing!

Questions for Reflection

1) Do you remember how you felt on September 11, 2001? What sorts of emotions did you experience? What sorts of thoughts went through your head? How have those feelings and thoughts evolved over the past decade? How do you feel in the present moment?

2) Think of some of the moments in your life when you’ve been most hurt. Why do you think the other person/people acted that way? Can you recognize any hurt, fear, or insecurity in that other person’s heart that may have contributed to him/her lashing out at you?

3) Think of a time when you, yourself, have hurt someone else. Did you receive forgiveness? (Did you ask for it?) If you did, what did that feel like, and how did it affect your relationship with the other person? If you have not received forgiveness, what does that feel like?

4) Are there any hurts in your current life that you are struggling to forgive, right now, today, in the present moment? Why is this particular hurt so challenging to forgive? How do today’s readings speak to you?

September 4, 2011 - "Love is the fulfillment of the law"

September 4, 2011 - Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

First Reading - Ezekiel 33:7-9

Thus says the LORD: You, son of man, I have appointed watchman for the house of Israel; when you hear me say anything, you shall warn them for me. If I tell the wicked, "O wicked one, you shall surely die, "and you do not speak out to dissuade the wicked from his way, the wicked shall die for his guilt, but I will hold you responsible for his death. But if you warn the wicked, trying to turn him from his way, and he refuses to turn from his way, he shall die for his guilt, but you shall save yourself.

Responsorial Psalm - Psalm 95:1-2, 6-7, 8-9

R. (8)If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.

Come, let us sing joyfully to the LORD; let us acclaim the rock of our salvation.

Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving; let us joyfully sing psalms to him.

R. If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.

Come, let us bow down in worship; let us kneel before the LORD who made us.

For he is our God, and we are the people he shepherds, the flock he guides.

R. If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.

Oh, that today you would hear his voice: "Harden not your hearts as at Meribah, as in the day of Massah in the desert, Where your fathers tempted me; they tested me though they had seen my works."

R. If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.

Second Reading - Romans 13:8-10

Brothers and sisters: Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments, "You shall not commit adultery; you shall not kill; you shall not steal; you shall not covet, " and whatever other commandment there may be, are summed up in this saying, namely, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Love does no evil to the neighbor; hence, love is the fulfillment of the law.

Gospel - Matthew 18:15-20

Jesus said to his disciples: "If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have won over your brother. If he does not listen, take one or two others along with you, so that 'every fact may be established on the testimony of two or three witnesses.' If he refuses to listen to them, tell the church.

If he refuses to listen even to the church, then treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector. Amen, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. Again, amen, I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything for which they are to pray, it shall be granted to them by my heavenly Father. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them."

Reflection

Frequently, we feel oppressed by “the law.” Stifled. Suffocated. Restrained. Handcuffed. Possibly even imprisoned. We perceive “the law” as a constraint on human freedom and an implicit indictment of our ability as moral agents to make good decisions. We don’t trust you to drive at a safe speed, so we establish a speed limit and post cops along the side of the road to enforce it. We can’t be sure you won’t abuse alcohol or other controlled substances, and so we draft legislation that curtails who can have access to these chemicals and under what circumstances they are made available. And that’s just the criminal code. The majority of law, at least in the United States, is civil law. Contract law. Property law. The sorts of statutes and clauses that spell out exactly who owes whom what, for how long, and at what cost. Codifications of the process by which comes to inherit a piece of land or the deed to a house, and the concomitant tax law delineating precisely how much that newfound property will cost you. The law is not something that elicits a great deal of affection from most ordinary citizens.

And yet, in today’s readings, we encounter a decidedly different description of the law, i.e. “love is the fulfillment of the law.” If one were to plod through the entirety of the United States Internal Revenue Code or pore over the details of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act of 2010, “love” is unlikely to be the first word that comes to mind to describe them. So what does it mean for Paul to assert that, in loving one another, we fulfill the law?

For the Jewish people, the law was not understood to be a constraining apparatus, preventing them from living as they pleased; rather, The Law, or Torah (for Torah means “Law”) was seen as given from God for their flourishing. The purpose of the 611 commandments contained in the Biblical Pentateuch was to facilitate social relationships in such a way that the community coexisted peacefully and cooperatively. There are the 10 (major) Commandments, of course, that quite obviously aim to prevent a descent into conflict, insofar as adultery, theft, and murder tend to be pretty serious obstacles to social cohesion in a tribal society (or any society, for that matter). But even the more obscure commandments, such as those governing the proper response should a neighbor accidentally kill one’s ox, were designed to allow the community to live in harmony and stability. (The unintentional killing of a goat might be forgiven by one neighbor, but another might be willing to go to war over it. Having a clearly laid out set of rules by which such matters are to be resolved was essential to tribal life.)

Underlying all of these laws, then, was the foundation of human relationship. All of Torah concerns itself with the question of justice, of dikaiosune, as it is translated in Greek. Not justice as we commonly conceive of it, but as being in right relationship with every other created being in the cosmos. Thus, dikaiosune does not simply concern itself with what I owe the government, should I inherit a large amount of money from a deceased relative, but with what I owe everyone and everything in my daily life. What I “owe” my mother as her child. What I “owe” the environment as entrusted with its care and stewardship by God. What I “owe” both the guy down the hall who drives me nuts and myself, as persons, each of us, created in the image and likeness of God. Clearly these sorts of relationships are not all the domain of “the law” as we often think of it, i.e. the law of the state. Rather, such laws permeate every aspect of our life, inasmuch as we are intrinsically relational beings.

If relationships undergird the law, then love must be both its impetus and fulfillment. Too often, we view adherence to the law as a product of fear, usually fear of consequences should we fail to do so. When we are young, we obey our parents for fear that they will punish us otherwise, and once we are older, we obey the speed limit because we are afraid we will get caught (and hit with a speeding ticket). Properly understood, however, both of these forms of “obedience” ought to be aimed at love. I listen to my mother’s instructions that I be home by midnight not because I am afraid of getting grounded if she finds out I’ve disobeyed, but because I love my mother and I do not want her sitting up all night, racked with anxiety over my whereabouts and well-being. Likewise, I drive under the speed limit not because I fear a ticket, but because I love my neighbors so much that I could never consciously decide that it was worth arriving a few minutes early at the ballpark if my recklessness endangered other people’s lives.

Paul exhorts us to begin first with the conviction that love is at the heart of what it means to be a follower of Christ. From this, our love of those around us compels us to cultivate right relationship with them, whatever that may mean. If we start from a place of love—and see still greater love as the goal—then it will not feel like we “owe” our obedience to authority or adherence to the law. Instead, we will begin to feel a genuine sense of joy, that we are able to express our love to others through the establishment and furthering of these right relationships.

Parents are often asked what they would like for their birthday, and it is not uncommon for them to respond something to the effect of, “What I’d really like is for my kids, just for a day, to do all their chores; not to start fights with one another; and to listen to everything I say.” Ask any parent, teacher, or coach. Far more demonstrative of the authenticity of one’s love than any present purchased at the store, is a sincere attempt to be in right relationship with that person. Teachers don’t want their students to express love by giving them $25 gift cards to Target (although those are nice); they want their students to be quiet in class and listen when instructions are given.

This is what Paul means in his letter to the Romans, and this is what Jesus expounds upon throughout his many teachings on the law. To love our neighbor, as Jesus commands us, means to cultivate right relationship with them. And, in doing so, we will find that the love between our individual selves is multiplied and compounded, becoming a part of the larger collective of love constructed by the entire Christian community. Our challenge, then, is to discern what that love requires from us in each of our distinct relationships—to our parents; to our friends; to our siblings; to our bosses, coaches, and instructors; to drought-afflicted populations in Africa and to war-torn regions in the Middle East. There may be no national statute articulating what we “owe” to homeless veterans who loiter outside local restaurants, nor any international political body with the authority to legislate what we “owe” children dying of dysentery in Haiti; but justice, dikaiosune, invites us to consider what we “owe” them, what love compels us to do, out of love.

Questions for Reflection

1) When you hear the word, “law,” what are some of the first words that come to mind? Do you generally have a favorable view of “the law?” Unfavorable? Begrudging acceptance as necessary for life in a civilized society?

2) Are there any particular laws, whether of the civil state or the Catholic Church, that you struggle with? What about them causes you to struggle? If you had to describe what you think the purpose/motivation for them was, what would you say it was?

3) What are some of the important relationships in your current life? Roommates, boy/girlfriends, parents, professors, etc. What does justice, i.e. “being in right relationship” with each of them entail?

4) How does it strike you that love might be motivated by and fulfilled in love? If you were to start from a place of loving the other, how might some of your interactions with those you are in relationship with, be different?

5) Jesus instructs us that we should “love one another as you love yourself”… what does loving ONESELF require? How might we do justice, that is, be in right relationship, with ourselves? What sorts of “laws,” (e.g. get enough sleep; eat healthy; find time for prayer; etc.) might we obey out of love for self?

28 August 2011 - 22nd Sunday in Ord Time [Cycle A]

August 28, 2011 - Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

First Reading - Jeremiah 20:7-9

You duped me, O LORD, and I let myself be duped; you were too strong for me, and you triumphed. All the day I am an object of laughter; everyone mocks me.

Whenever I speak, I must cry out, violence and outrage is my message; the word of the LORD has brought me derision and reproach all the day. I say to myself, I will not mention him, I will speak in his name no more. But then it becomes like fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones;
I grow weary holding it in, I cannot endure it.

Responsorial Psalm - Ps 63:2, 3-4, 5-6, 8-9

R. (2b) My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.
O God, you are my God whom I seek; for you my flesh pines and my soul thirsts
like the earth, parched, lifeless and without water.
R. My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.
Thus have I gazed toward you in the sanctuary to see your power and your glory,
For your kindness is a greater good than life; my lips shall glorify you.
R. My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.
Thus will I bless you while I live; lifting up my hands, I will call upon your name. As with the riches of a banquet shall my soul be satisfied, and with exultant lips my mouth shall praise you.
R. My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.
You are my help, and in the shadow of your wings I shout for joy.
My soul clings fast to you; your right hand upholds me.
R. My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.

Reading 2 - Romans 12:1-2

I urge you, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice,
holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship. Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.

Gospel - Matthew 16:21-27

Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised. Then Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him, "God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you." He turned and said to Peter, "Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do."

Then Jesus said to his disciples, "Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life? Or what can one give in exchange for his life? For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father's glory, and then he will repay all according to his conduct."

Reflection

In any discipline, one of the things that sets apart the truly spectacular individuals from the rest of their peers is an uncompromising willingness to show up on days they don’t really want to be there. Michael Jordan and Michael Phelps boasted preternaturally talent, but Jordan was famous for being the first one at the gym in the morning to practice his jump shot, and Phelps spent a seemingly superhuman 6 to 8 hours a day in the water leading up to the Olympics. Similar stories abound for Nobel-winning scientists who locked themselves in a lab for days on end and world-renowned musicians whose calloused fingers cracked and bled from the repeated efforts to perfect a piece. Their relentless drive to succeed compelled them to pour in the many hours necessary to achieve at the highest level.

There are no shortcuts to success. Be it a molecular biologist attempting to identify genetic factors for cancer, or a violinist attempting to win a chair with a major symphony—or, on a far more common level, a student studying for an organic chemistry final or one preparing to take the LSATs. Or the MCATs. Or Comps. Or Boards. One common theme persists across disciplines: in order to attain the goal, one must be willing to put in the work, despite all temptations to the contrary. Sometimes, the temptation to take the easy way out can be so powerful, so appealing, that the only way we can resist is to meet the temptation with equal ferocity, to let forth a visceral bellow to, “Get behind me, Satan!” This is what happens to Jesus in today’s Gospel.

Remember, in Jewish thought at the time of Jesus, “the Satan” was a title, not a single, personal being. The Satan was a member of the Heavenly Court, assigned by God to test humans—to challenge them, to tempt them. In some sense, the Satan was the unyielding drill instructor at boot camp screaming in the face of weary recruits, “You’re too weak! You’ll never make it through this program! I’ll bet you’d rather be warm and dry in your bed, curling up with a blanket, rather than out here in the mud doing push-ups!” The Satan was “employed” by God to make sure the individual had what it took to successfully accomplish his/her mission later on.

The only other time we see the Satan in the Gospel of Matthew is when Jesus is being tempted in the desert, and as we have covered before (Jesus’ Temptation in the Desert), the reason that the suggestions of the Satan were so tempting to Jesus is that they were the equivalent of taking the easy way out. Much as there is no magical shortcut to acing the MCATs or making it through medical school, there was no “easy way out” for Jesus’ mission on earth. He knew that the task God had given him would require great hardship and unspeakable suffering. It was something that must have tormented him throughout his public ministry—indeed, we see him agonizing over it in the Garden of Gethsemane the night before his death. We see a human Jesus, a person like ourselves, who was filled with anxiety and terror and dread, who must have been incredibly tempted to walk away from the task at hand, knowing how much it would hurt.

When he describes the suffering he is going to have to undergo in today’s Gospel, informing his disciples that he would have to suffer and die to complete his assignment, it would be like one of us telling a friend about what it will take to become a surgeon. “Well, I’ll have to take the MCATs, do well in my classes, shadow some doctors, find time for research, get into medical school, SURVIVE medical school, pass the boards, get matched with a hospital, spend several years working my way through internship and residency…” and Peter’s well-intentioned response would be equivalent to one of our friends saying, “Jeez, that sounds awful! Why don’t you just say, ‘Forget all that!’ and do something else?!”

Our response might be, “Get behind me, Satan!” which translated, would mean, “Don’t tempt me! Don’t you think I’m tempted to just avoid all that hardship?! Of course I am! But this is what I feel called to do!”

The same way that we, while we’re working on a research project; studying for a series of exams; preparing for a recital; training for a marathon, etc. will have times when we are tempted to sleep in on a Saturday morning, rather than go for a 20 mile run; or to go out and celebrate a friend’s birthday at the bar, rather than stay in and study for the exam… Jesus must have been tempted to say, “It’s been a long week; I’m tired of healing these people and delivering sermons… let’s blow off the next town and spend a week having fun!”

The reason that Jesus responds with so potent a rebuke to Peter is the same reason we might eventually lose our patience with a friend who keeps trying to get us to go out to the bar while we’re trying to study for an exam; at some point, we can’t resist anymore, and we’re sick of being inundated with invitations to take the temptation, so we just shout, “I’M NOT GOING OUT, LEAVE ME ALONE!” The person might be taken aback by our tone; they may even be hurt and confused, but the energy in our voice would be a direct expression of just how challenging it is to stay the course on a project we’ve undertaken, that we feel called to complete. Especially when there are so many short-term gratifications we’d probably “rather” be doing.

But in the long run, what we recognize by remaining committed, is that it is ultimately worth the price. Finishing the marathon; winning a research fellowship; getting accepted to medical school. We recognize that, no matter how appealing the short term alternative might be, going out with friends or sleeping in on a Saturday is nowhere near as fulfilling as the long-term accomplishment will be. Jesus, too, knew this. No matter how draining his public ministry, no matter how painful his suffering and death; it would ultimately result in the salvation of the human race.

Peter’s thought is: we want you to be happy! And we want to be happy with you! But he doesn’t understand that what will make Jesus most happy, will be to fulfill his mission. Oftentimes in life, our friends or family might do the same to us; they might push a suggestion and say, “Why don’t you…?” not understanding that this won’t bring us the greatest fulfillment in the long run. It’s for this reason that Jesus says to Peter, you’re not thinking about this as God does; you’re thinking about this as a human does. It’d be like saying to your friend who insists you blow off studying, “You’re not thinking about what I ought to do as someone who’s familiar with what it takes to get into medical school; you’re thinking about this as my friend who wants to see me less stressed and who wants to hang out with me.” In other words, “I love you, but you don’t get it.” That’s why Jesus isn’t mad at Peter.

In fact, Peter’s interjection is instructive for us, if we analyze it a bit. Peter’s words are an admixture of sincere love for his friend, “I don’t want to see you go through all that!” and self-ish fear that all of this is going to negatively affect his own life—after all, Peter had walked away from his job, left behind his family, given up everything he owned to follow Jesus. Now Jesus is telling that group of followers that, before too long, he’s going to be killed and they’re going to be on their own. Peter must have been freaking out! “Well then what am I supposed to do??”

The key for us, when we are in Jesus’ position, undertaking some difficult assignment that we know will involve hardship and possibly even pain, is to pray for the grace to sustain us on our mission, even when we are surrounded by the temptation to quit. Only by the grace of God will we be able to summon the internal motivation to stay in and study for an exam all day when our friends are out tailgating leading up to the Notre Dame game. Only by the grace of God will we be able to roll out of bed at 6 am on a Saturday morning in November, when it’s 37 degrees outside and raining, to plow through a long run in preparation for the marathon.

And, conversely, when we are Peter, when we find ourselves in relationship with someone who is endeavoring at some similar undertaking, we must pray for the grace to be supportive, even if we do not totally understand the logic of that person’s mission. Even if it strikes us as perfectly ILLOGICAL for a person to want to wake up before dawn and run in the rain, or to stare at data results in a lab until one’s eyes are sore.

When we are tempted by “the Satan,” very infrequently do we see a demonic figure with red horns and an evil grin, and the “evil” to which we are tempted is not usually some obvious or extraordinarily horrible thing. Far more often, the temptation is to tailgate with friends when we are in crunch time for a research project, and that “evil” appears to be a very great good—hanging out with friends! Cultivating relationship! The temptation isn’t to take a detour at mile 16 of the marathon and jump back on at mile 22, cheating the course—it’s to skip some of our training so that we can sleep in. The next time we feel that temptation, it may not be enough to sigh and force ourselves to do what is tough. We may have to exclaim, “Get behind me, Satan!”

Questions for Reflection

1) Have you ever undertaken some very challenging task? Studied for a particularly tough exam, when your friends were all going out? Trained for a sporting competition? Practiced for a recital? Were there days you were tempted to skip out on your work? How did you summon the strength to push through?

2) Can you think of any friends who have undertaken some mission you did not really understand? Worked in a foreign country? Taken a job that appears to involve a lot of stress and drama? Decided to train for something? How did you respond to that friend’s decision? Were you supportive? What does being a good friend look like? How can one be unconditionally supportive, without also becoming uncritically so? That is, what if you really DO believe this person’s undertaking is bad for them?

3) Jesus had his mission handed to him by the Father, but we are not often so lucky as to have it explicitly spelled out for us; how do you discern what it is God is calling you to do? How do you know which undertakings are part of “God’s plan,” and which are part of your “human plan?”