Homily: St. Stephen’s Day (December 26)

Merry Christmas! Our Redeemer is born! 

But today, I can also offer you another greeting: Happy St. Stephen’s Day!

For us deacons, today is one of our special days. On this day after the solemnity of Christmas, we celebrate the feast of St. Stephen, deacon and first martyr.

It might seem a bit strange to join these two feasts – the memorial of the Church’s first martyr and the celebration of the birth of our Redeemer – an odd contrast between the peace and joy of Bethlehem and the tragedy of St. Stephen…for Stephen was stoned to death in Jerusalem during the first persecution against the nascent Church.

And yet this seemingly odd contrast is very much in tune with the mystery of Christmas. The Child Jesus, born in the stable, the only-begotten Son of God, will ultimately save humanity by dying on the Cross.

Today we encounter Him as a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. But later, after His passion and death, His body will again be wrapped, but placed in a tomb.

In the Eastern Church, icons sometimes represent the newborn Jesus lying in a small sarcophagus, presenting us with a vivid reminder that the Redeemer was born to die, born to give His life as a ransom for all.

St. Stephen was the first to follow in our Lord’s steps; and like Jesus, he died forgiving and praying for his executioners. By doing so he set the stage for all the saints of the early Church who would follow him to martyrdom. This army, a countless multitude, the liturgy calls "the white army of martyrs."

The early Church did not view their deaths as a reason for fear and sadness; indeed, quite the opposite. Back in the 2^nd century Tertullian described the blood of the martyrs as the seed of the Church, a source of spiritual enthusiasm, always giving rise to new Christians.

And believe me, it will be the same today as the Church experiences increased persecution throughout the world, with many Christians following in the footsteps of St. Stephen.

We should be praying for them and for all those persecuted for the Faith. Pray that they will have the strength to persevere, to realize that the trials they suffer are really a source of victory.

Martyrdom of St. Stephen

And pray too for the Church’s deacons. We need your prayers as we strive to serve God and His people in the many ways He calls us. For the word deacon simply means “servant” – and serve we must.

The deacons of your parish serve today in jails, and hospitals, and nursing homes, and soup kitchens. They assist in the faith formation of children and adults. They’re involved in healing ministries and provide spiritual direction.

They teach, they preach, they heal, and in doing so look to St. Stephen as the model of the servant every Christian is called to be.

Yes, we need your prayers, so that we will have the strength and the courage to do God’s work in the world.

St. Stephen died a martyr, but died filled with joy; and so, we can say again, Happy St. Stephen’s Day. 

Homily: Tuesday, 1st Week of Advent

Readings Is 11:1-10; Ps 72; Lk 10:21-24

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Whenever I read today’s Gospel passage from Luke, I realize how blessed we are as Christians because we know Jesus Christ, just as Jesus revealed to the disciples:

“Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I say to you, many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.”

He said this to the 72 who had just returned from their mission to take the Good News into the world, to do the work Jesus had been doing. Not long before, Jesus had sent the 12 out on their first mission to do the same: to preach, to teach, and to heal, all in the name of Jesus Christ. And all of these first missionaries had proclaimed the Kingdom of God to the People of God, for the Jews would be the first to hear the Good News. Jesus had also told them:

“To you it has been given to know the secrets of the Kingdom of God, but to others I speak in parables, so that looking they may not perceive and hearing they may not understand.”

These words don’t mean that insight and understanding are given only to Jesus’ immediate disciples. Rather, He is telling them that they, because they are faithful disciples, have opened themselves to hear and, therefore, to understand His message, and to see and imitate His works.

I can take no credit for converting a single soul, but I suppose in some way, God works through us to lead those He calls to discipleship. For over ten years, Diane and I served as hospital chaplains here in The Villages. On our assigned days we would be asked to visit 20 or 30 newly admitted patients, people of all faiths. Our role was largely prayerful, to provide comfort to those who were suffering, to assist them if they had unaddressed needs, but mostly just to listen.

One morning we visited a man on the cardiac care floor. As we entered his room, he noticed our “Chaplain” name tags, and with a frown said:

“I had a heart attack that almost killed me. Now the doctors tell me I need a transplant, But the chances aren’t good that I’ll survive long enough to get one.”

He then asked – and these were his words:

“What the hell do you want?”

So, I said the only thing I could think of saying:

“To help you avoid going there.”

I guess that broke the ice. He laughed and asked us what church we came from. When I told him we were Catholic, he said he used to be, but left the Church when he was in his 20s. I just said, “Well, if you were baptized, you’re still a Catholic, even if you don’t know it.”

With that the three of us talked a while – about his life, about his fear of death, about Jesus and God’s unconditional love, but mostly about forgiveness. Eventually he admitted, as he described it, having “a mountain of sins, mostly unforgiveable.”

So, we suggested, “Well, then, let’s test your theory. I’m going to call a priest friend, a really good guy, and he’ll come here, and hear your confession. With that you’ll taste the goodness of God’s forgiveness. And you’ll also see how wonderful it is to be in friendship with Jesus Christ.”

It all happened just as God planned it. When my priest friend entered the room, this long-lapsed soul sat up and cried.

He died the following week.

So, do you see how blessed we are to have known Jesus Christ, most of us for our entire lives? And yet, He is there for all, even those who have long ignored Him.

But we are called, just like the Apostles and the 72, to evangelize, to take the Good News of Jesus Christ to all those we encounter, to all those places in our lives.

The great thing is, He does all the work; we just say and do whatever He tells us.

Homily: Wednesday, 34th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Dn 5:1-28; Dn 3; Luke 21.12-19

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If the gospel message is good news, then why do so many oppose it with hostility and even violence? Jesus warns us that we’ll be confronted with persecution, evil, false teaching, and temptation. And how does Jesus tell us to respond to all this? With love, with truth, with forgiveness.

Only God’s love can defeat bigotry, hatred and envy, and all that would divide and tear us apart. Only God’s truth can overcome the lies and confusion in the world; for that’s what the Gospel is, God's word of truth and salvation. Jesus, then, tells his disciples to proclaim the gospel throughout the whole world, even in the midst of opposition and persecution.

If they persevere to the end they will gain their lives – they will see God's salvation.

Such endurance isn’t a product of human effort. It’s a supernatural gift of the Holy Spirit, a gift strengthened by the hope that we’ll see God face to face and inherit His promises. Jesus, of course, is our model: He who endured the Cross for our sake and salvation; Jesus who calls us to love, to die to ourselves.

You know, the Greek root of the word martyr means witness? True martyrs live and die as witnesses to the Gospel, to Jesus. The Book of Revelations calls Jesus “the faithful witness ...who freed us from our sins by his blood." And Tertullian, a second century lawyer converted when he saw Christians singing as they went out to die at the hands of their persecutors. He compared the blood of the martyrs to “seed,” the seed of new Christians, the seed of the Church. St. Augustine spoke of this too: "The martyrs were bound, jailed, scourged, racked, burned, rent, butchered – and they multiplied!"

Christians multiplied because the martyrs witnessed to the truth, to the joy and freedom of the Gospel; and they did so through the testimony of their lives. They witness the truth: "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son…”

 “God so loved the world…” He doesn’t love just part of it. No, He loves it all. He loves each one of us. It can’t be otherwise because He created each human being in an individual act of love. We must remember that Jesus died on the Cross for Jews and Gentiles, for Christians and Muslims, for Hindus and Buddhists, for agnostics and atheists.

By our witness as Christians, others will recognize Christ’s victory on the Cross, his power to overcome sin, fear, hatred, even death itself. When the world looks at us, it has the right to find in us a reflection of the glory of the Trinity. The world has a right to discover in our faith, hope, and love a testimony to the Holy Spirit’s presence.

The problems that have arisen in Christ’s Church over the centuries, and exist even now, are not caused by the Holy Spirit; they’re caused by the mediocrity of Christians, by our lukewarmness. As the great G. K. Chesterton once wrote, “Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and not tried.”

What brings others to Jesus Christ and His Church is seeing Christians loving their enemies; seeing us joyful in suffering, patient in adversity, forgiving of injuries, and showing comfort and compassion to the hopeless and the helpless. 

This, brothers and sisters, is our calling.

Homily: 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year A

Readings: Prv 31:10-13, 19-20, 30-31; Ps 128; 1 Thes 5:1-6; Mt 25:14-30

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When I was a boy, my dad would "recruit" me (that was the word the Colonel used) to spend Saturday mornings with him as he made things in his home workshop. Carpentry was his hobby, and he was good at it. I ended up doing little more than handing him tools or holding boards while he cut them -- useful but not very fulfilling work, at least not for me. I’d rather been out with my friends.

But his real reason for having me join him was to talk with me about life, and to listen to what I thought about the important things. Now the average 10-year-old boy – and that was me – didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about life’s great mysteries, and so I did much more listening than talking.

I recall one morning; he was making a wooden support, kind of a large plaque, on which to hang a ship’s bell someone had given him. The bell was very old and pretty cool. He wanted to hang it by the front door. While we were making it, he said, “You know, son, this bell, like every bell, can sound only a single note. No matter how loud or soft, when it rings, it rings the same note.”

Then he added, “A lot of people are like that. They play just one note, because they’re so focused on just one thing: themselves. And they miss all the wonders, and all the others, God has placed around and in their lives.” 

That thought has never really left me, and it popped into my aging brain the other day as I thought today’s readings.

We first heard, from the Book of Proverbs, a beautiful description of the worthy wife and all that she does. Indeed, like a carillon, she can ring a lot of different bells, all to bring about good and not evil.

And we celebrate her not simply for what she does, but for who she is. Her actions are driven by the love that resides within her. It is through that love, the reality of Her interior being, that we see its manifestation in her actions, in her love toward others. Her life, then, becomes an extension of herself as she reaches out to others, to her family, to the poor, all done for God’s glory. Yes, indeed, “the woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”

Just as the faithful woman is praised, we encounter much the same in our Responsorial Psalm, this time aimed at the faithful man. Like the woman, the man of faith rings a lot of different bells, but they blend together into a beautiful hymn of praise. His wife, a fruitful vine; his children, olive plants around his table. As our family sat down to dinner, I sometimes called our children, “my little olive plants.” For some reason they took offense to that. I guess they hadn’t yet learned about metaphors.

But anyway, as the faithful man walks in God’s ways, he is blessed because he, too, fears the Lord. This Biblical fear of the Lord is really nothing more than an acceptance of reality, of God’s greatness. It’s the overwhelming sense of awe, of reverence, the awareness that everything comes from God, and demands our thanksgiving.

Then, in our second reading, we again encounter fear; although here it’s unstated, it’s still very present. St. Paul encourages the good Christians of Thessalonica to “stay alert and sober” because the “day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.” Yes, God’s judgment can engender fear in some hearts, specifically those unprepared to face Him.

As St. Paul prophetically reminds us, the worldly ones, the politicians and others, try to sooth us with their bell and its single note of “peace and security” – while we, the uninformed, uninitiated one, look out into the world and see something very different. But even then, we should never allow that other kind of fear, a fear of the world, to enter our hearts and rule us. For it, too, is like that solitary bell, that sounds just one note.

We lived in Germany for a while when I was about seven or eight. One day as Mom and I walked to the local delicatessen, we heard the deep sonorous tone of a bell ringing from a local Lutheran church.

You know, “BONG!” And every ten seconds or so, it would ring again, another “BONG!”

Eventually, I asked, “What’s that sound, Mom? It’s kinda scary.” Her response, “Son, it’s a bell, for a funeral. It’s the sound of death.” Well, that certainly didn’t cheer me up.

But I think, in many hearts, it’s really the sound of fear. Perhaps, as they approach their own individual “day of the Lord” they fear that, in St. Paul’s words, “they will not escape.” How sad for them. And we see that sadness, that fear, in Jesus’ parable of the talents.

The talent Jesus speaks of is really a large sum of money – someone with five or more talents of gold would be today’s millionaire; so, in the most literal sense, the master is a very wealthy man.

But in the parable, the talents become interior, soul-bound treasures. And the master? He is God. We encounter God investing in each human person with specific and very personal gifts. He sees and knows each of us so very differently. These talents, each gift, is meant to be accepted as precious, not to be compared with what others have received. You see, brothers and sisters, God knows and loves each of us as if no one else existed.

The master, then, with complete trust, turned over all his property to his servants. One received five, one two, and the third, one. The master invested in each of them, that they increase those gifts with interest. Two didn’t hesitate. They went out, engaged the world, and traded well, fulfilling the master’s wishes.

The third, the fearful one, knowing he’d been given less, unwilling to confront reality, unwilling to grow, just buries his personhood in a hole in the ground. Consumed by his fears, striving only to ensure his own survival, instead he literally digs his own grave. As I think of him, I recall that bell in Heidelberg, sounding its single note of fear.

Jesus understood the disabling power of fear, for how often does He tell us: “Be not afraid.” Jesus is a true rejector of the status quo. He wants us to grow, and not allow worldly fears to hold us back.

The tragedy of the third servant is that, out of fear, he hid what had been entrusted to him, even though he had the ability to use it well. Because he did nothing, he never changed, never grew. We learn far more by doing, even if we encounter failure along the way. God has graced each of us in some way, to serve both Him and others. If we hide what has been given us, others are deprived.

Gerard Manley Hopkins, the English Jesuit poet, wrote a beautiful poem, "As Kingfishers Catch Fire," and in it there’s this amazing line:

“…the just man justices;

Keeps grace: that keeps all their goings graces.”

Yes, we keep and nurture God’s grace which keeps all our goings graces. What an ordaining thought: all our goings, all our doings, are graces, because of the graces within.

The parable has that one strong message. Jesus hopes to move us, to form us interiorly as the woman of Proverbs was formed interiorly. She lives, as she knows and receives herself to be, and we are called to the same interior change – not just to do things differently, but to be something completely different, to undergo conversion.

Hopkins ends his poem, showing how we are called to act in God’s eye, what in God’s eye we are.

“…for Christ plays in ten thousand places,

Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his

To the Father through the features of men’s faces.”

We don’t put on Jesus as we’d put on an item of clothing. No, He invests Himself in us and we repay Him through what we have become in our hearts. Jesus Christ has buried Himself in us that we might continually give Him flesh. God is ever in-fleshing with divine love, as an eternal dressing of humanity, always striving to present Himself to the world through us.

Sisters and brothers, we are called to be Jesus Christ to all whom we encounter, fearlessly ringing a thousand different, joyful bells. Then, at the time of judgment, won’t it be wonderful to hear those words: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Homily: Tuesday, 31st Week in Ordinary Time - Year A

Readings: Rom 12:5-16; Ps 131; Lk 14:15-24

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Back in 1951, I was seven years old. My dad was an Army officer stationed in Germany and that Christmas we were vacationing in Bavaria. We spent a few days in Munich, and one morning while my mom and brother were back in the hotel restaurant having breakfast, my dad and I went for a walk headed for a nearby newsstand where he knew he could buy an English language newspaper.

And as we walked, for the first time in my brief life, I saw a man on the sidewalk begging. He had no legs and sat on a makeshift wooden pallet with roller skate wheels. He propelled himself with two pieces of wood, one in each hand, that he pulled along the ground. The war had ended only a few years before, and he had a couple of military medals pinned to his old coat. In his lap was a tin can with a few small coins in it.

I remember all this because I had stopped to look at him. Children aren’t easily embarrassed, and neither was he. He smiled at me, so I decided to try out my German and said very formally, “Guten Morgen, mein Herr” – Good morning, sir. With that, his smile grew and he replied, “Guten Morgen, Junge” – Good morning, boy.

At that point Dad spoke to him and they exchanged a few words in German, which I didn’t understand. They both laughed, and then Dad put four five-mark coins in the tin can. 20 marks was quite a lot back then. The man then called me closer, reached out and with his fingertips, made the sign of the cross on my forehead. As we walked on to the newsstand, Dad simply said, “Two things, son. First, Jesus is always present in others, and second, that could be you.” 72 years ago, but I’ve not forgotten that encounter with a war-torn beggar on a Munich street.

Of course, back then I hadn’t read Paul’s letter to the Romans; but my Dad had. Much of the letter contains great theological insights about God and our relationship to him in Jesus Christ. But then, here in chapter 12, as his letter draws to a close, Paul offers us some very practical advice on actually living the Christian life. He begins with:

“We, though many, are one Body in Christ and individually parts of one another.” [Rom 12:5]

Because Christ is present in each of us, we’re united, bound to each other, “parts of one another.” Have you ever thought about that? In other words, that legless beggar, my father, and I are together in one Christian family. To ignore that man on the street would be like ignoring my brother. And because we’re essentially fused together in the Body of Christ, we can serve Jesus Christ only when we love and serve each other.

That’s the wonderful thing about Christianity: we’re not isolated individuals. We’re a community, each of us offering his particular gifts to help the others. And because evangelization is the Body of Christ’s primary responsibility, we must reach out into the world, and bring others into communion with us.

I’ve always thought Paul’s awareness of this communion in the Body of Christ, originated when he heard those words of Jesus on the road to Damascus:

“Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” [Acts 9:4]

Hearing those swords, pondering them, Paul came to understand that by persecuting Jesus’ disciples, he had been persecuting Jesus himself, because they are one. And I really believe that question of Jesus was the catalyst for Paul’s teaching on the Body of Christ.

Paul then lists many of the gifts, the charisms that let Christians build up the Body of Christ. Among them is almsgiving. In Paul’s time, many Christians were poor, unable to give alms. Every community had its sick, poor, elderly, orphans, and widows. But some Christians had a surplus to share, and Paul told them to give generously.

The same is true today, brothers and sisters. But living here in The Villages, in our rather antiseptic enclosed community, we don’t see it, despite the reality that surrounds us. Diane and I served at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen for many years.; and when I was on the board, I’d often go out with one of our drivers, delivering meals to shut-ins. We’d drive down streets where the poverty was so palpable it simply enveloped you; and then enter dwellings where no human being should live.

On Thanksgiving, our secular feast, will we just thank God for all He’s done for us, for all those gifts? Or will we also thank Him for leading us through our own highways and hedgerows, to seek out those with whom we can share those gifts he has let us use?

After all, we’ve come together this morning to receive the Body of Christ, so let’s leave here in Communion as the Body of Christ – to love and serve the Lord by loving and serving one another.

Homily: Solemnity of All Saints

Readings: Rv 7:2-4, 9-1; Ps 24; 1 Jn 3:1-3; Mt 5:1-12

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Good evening, all you saints in training!

"Who are these wearing white robes, and where did they come from?" [Rv 7:13]

I’ve always loved this verse from the Book of Revelation. This might sound odd, but whenever I read it, I can’t help but think of a line from the movie, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”, when Cassidy, the outlaw, speaking of the posse tracking them so successfully, asks, “Who are those guys?” It’s really what was asked of John when he encountered that crowd in his heavenly vision: Who are these people?

Who are these saints? Where did they come from? How did they manage to live in this weird world of ours and yet live such holy lives? Yes, it’s these people and their lives of heroic virtue, these saints, that we celebrate at this vigil Mass of the Solemnity of All Saints.

Some years ago, during the canonization ceremony of Popes John XXIII and John Paul II, I heard a news anchor say, “Today the Catholic Church made two saints and let them enter heaven.” What an odd thing to say. Of course, he was wrong, terribly wrong, and provided another good reason to ignore what the secular media say about the Church. In truth, the Church doesn’t make saints. God makes them. All the Church does is recognize a few of the saints God has made.

Perhaps more importantly, the canonization of a saint doesn’t get them through heaven’s gates. Indeed, canonization does absolutely nothing for the saint, who is already with God. No, the Church canonizes saints for us, for by doing so she hopes to inspire you and me to strive for the holiness that is our true destiny. This is why the Church chants the Litany of the Saints at its most solemn liturgical celebrations. That Litany is the roster of the Church’s Hall of Fame, its family album, the names of those who form that “great cloud of witnesses” so eloquently described in the Letter to the Hebrews [Heb 12:1].

One of my theology professors at Georgetown, who taught me the New Testament 60 years ago, was a priest who had spent years in a Communist Chinese prison. Once, while speaking of St. Peter, a man filled with doubts and fears and so often lacking in faith, this saintly Jesuit said, “All saints are sinners, but not all sinners are saints.”

The difference, he went on to tell us, is that the saints recognize, understand, and repent of their sinfulness because they accepted God’s grace and recognize the Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ. More than anything else they desire union with Jesus Christ and so they struggle mightily in the lifelong process of conversion that God offers us all. The others, he said, not only don’t recognize the Son, but too often don’t even recognize their sinfulness for what it is. And that, he believed, was an eternal sadness.

Yes, brothers and sisters, we are all called to be saints, to be one with Jesus Christ. Even now, in this life, we’re united with the Communion of Saints, a part of All Saints, Christ’s Mystical Body, the People of God.

By our baptism we were sanctified, made holy, deep down, in grace – no longer banished, disaffected children, outside God’s family. In Baptism we become part of the in-crowd. Even though we’re sinners, as John reminds us, we’re still God’s children, adopted children of the Father. John continued, “What we shall be has not yet been revealed…But we shall be like Him” [1 Jn 3:2].

Yes, there’s so much we don’t know. Our vison is blurred by the mystic’s “cloud of unknowing,” until clarity comes when we rise with Jesus Christ. In the meantime, we move in the world – not just the world of good, of God’s creative act, but the world of a fallen race, the world that won’t recognize us because it won’t recognize Jesus Christ [1 Jn 3:1]. It’s a world that tries to extinguish the light of Christ, to drown out the Gospel with a cacophony of meaningless noise. It’s a world that ignores All Saints Day, preferring instead Halloween, All Hallows Eve, by celebrating the craziness of our world.

But God continues to raise up saints, and He wants each one of us to be among them; so, He gives us a guidebook, a map, to help us find our way to His Way. Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in Matthew’s Gospel distills the essence of His teachings. And it opens with the Beatitudes, the essence of the essence.

When we first hear them, our tendency is to select one or two qualities as applicable to us. “Oh, yeah, that’s me, the merciful peacemaker. I guess that means I’m okay, living the life Jesus wants for me.”

But that’s not what the Beatitudes are. They’re not items in a cafeteria from which we can pick and choose what we like, while ignoring the rest. They’re really a manifesto for the complete, normal Christian life.  Christ opens to us eight avenues through which we will find the fullness of blessing. To be blessed means to find wholeness, joy, well-being – to experience the true peace of Christ. To be fully blessed is to depend solely on God.

With that we come to recognize our own spiritual poverty, the insignificance of all we thought was so important. And when we cry out to God, fearful, hopeful, thankful, He sends His Spirit to show us the way. In sorrow, not only for our own sin but the sins and injustices of the world, we encounter the deep, abiding presence of the Holy Spirit.

Mourning our dead, praying for their salvation, we cast our prayers into eternity knowing that “with God all things are possible.” God blesses us with wisdom and compassion as we carry God’s love to others. 

Called to be meek, not weak, we walk with a humility that recognizes Jesus Christ in everyone we meet, reminding us that we are called to love. We move, not filled with vengeful anger, but as living signs of God’s mercy. 

Through prayer we experience the shock of humility, a rightness in our relationship with God, with each other, and with creation. True humility is merely the acceptance of reality, that we are all completely dependent on God. Humility is to recognize God’s divine life in others, and the need to love God and one’s neighbor as oneself.

I remember a story about a young mother who was trying to help her little boy understand God’s great commandment. “God put us here to help others,” she told him. He thought for a moment and then asked, “What are the others here for?” The little lad would have made a good Pharisee.

Yes, we’re called by Jesus to extend to each other the same mercy we expect from Him. At the soup kitchen we had a saying, “We don’t serve food, we serve Jesus Christ.” But do we open ourselves wide so that all who walk in that door, see Jesus in us?

As we long and work for peace in our lives, our merciful God rests His hand gently upon our heads and speaks to us as His favored children. Having received a sevenfold blessing, seized by the Holy Spirit, taken captive, we allow ourselves to receive an eighth blessing, to be emptied and enter into the perfection of Christ.

Then, being like Christ, we’re not surprised when called to share in the likeness of his suffering and death. For we, too, will carry our cross knowing always that Jesus walks by our side. Perhaps, then, someone will look at us and ask, “Who are they who seem to love so much?”

And for this, like the Saints we honor today, we will be greatly blessed.

 

Progressive Education, a Prophecy

The other day, in a TV news discussion addressing the radicalization of so many students in our colleges and universities, a member of the US House complained that, over the past two or three decades, our nation’s educational system has been infiltrated and co-opted by the ideological left. At one level he is correct, but at another, he is historically ignorant. The left’s takeover of education, especially our public educational system, has been a long, intentional process that began well over 100 years ago. Let me introduce you to a prophet who addressed the specifics of this highly successful movement 70 years ago, certainly more than a “two or three decades.” 

The prophet, Richard M. Weaver, died far too early in 1963 at the age of 53. A professor of English at the University of Chicago, he was far better known as a political philosopher and historian of intellectual movements. Weaver ultimately became one of the pioneers of modern conservative thought. He left behind many writings, but he is best known for three remarkable books: 

Ideas Have Consequences (1948)

The Ethics of Rhetoric (1953)

 

Visions of Order (1964)

If you hope to understand the ideas that have formed the basis of today’s conservative thought in America, these three brief books, along with Russell Kirk’s The Conservative Mind, are a great starting point. 

Years ago, when I first read Weaver’s Visions of Order, I was captivated by his chapter on education, entitled, “Gnostics of Education.” He described how the process of educational radicalization really began in the nineteenth century when, in his words: 

“…there occurred a sinister change. This came about when state bureaucracies were created to set the terms and supervise the workings of the expanding public school system. State legislatures felt that they had to turn the actual administration of affairs over to a body of ‘experts’…these state departments of education became virtually autonomous in their power to define the goals, methods, and materials of public instruction. The final step came when they were able to require all prospective public school teachers through the high school level to take a set number of courses in a subject called ‘Education’…This is where the doctrinal revolution…really took place…The new education, for which the name ‘progressive’ has been pre-empted by its advocates, is in marked conflict with our basic traditions and culture.” [Visions of Order, p. 114-115]

Following this, Weaver lists “some of the chief assumptions and tenets of progressive education. The conflict between them and the principal teachings of the Judea-Christian classical heritage of the west will be immediately apparent.” 

I realize his list is neither brief nor couched in today’s politically-correct language, but believe it’s worth reading. As you read, keep in mind that, although the book was published in 1964, a year after Weaver’s death, most of it was written in the mid-1950s, almost 70 years ago. These eight assumptions could easily be the manifesto of one of today’s radicalized teachers' unions. I include them here just as they were published [See Visions of Order, p. 115-117].

1. There is no such thing as a body of knowledge which reflects the structure of reality and which everyone therefore needs to learn. Knowledge is viewed as an instrumentality which is true or false according to the way it is applied to concrete situations or the way it serves the needs of the individual. Since these educators have embraced the notion that the essence of the world is change, there is no final knowledge about anything. The truths of yesterday are the falsehoods of today and the truths of today will be the falsehoods of tomorrow.
2. This being so, the object of education is not to teach knowledge, but to “teach students.” As they translate this into practice, it means that everyone should be adapted to the child as child, to the youth as youth, and to the particular group according to its limitations. There are no ideals or standards of performance which these are bound to measure themselves by or to respect.
3. As a corollary of the above principal, the child should be encouraged to follow his own desires in deciding what he should study, and what aspects of what subjects, and at what times.
4. The teacher must not think of himself as being in authority, because authority is evil. The teacher is there as a “leader,” but the duty of the leader is only to synchronize and cooperate with the work of the group.
5. The student should never be made afraid of anything connected with the school. Marks and competitions are bad because they instill feelings of superiority and inferiority, which are undemocratic. 
6. The mind is not to be exalted over the senses: democracy requires that sensory and “activist” learning be valued on a par with intellectual learning. The mentally slow or retarded are not to be made to feel that they are lacking; it is better to impugn the whole tradition of intellectual education than to injure the feelings of the less bright and the lazy.
7. Consequently, there should be less education through symbols like language and figures and more through using the hands-on concrete objects. It is more important to make maps than to learn them, said John Dewey, the grand pundit of the revolutionary movement.
8. The general aim is to train the student so that he will adjust himself not simply to the existing society, as is sometimes inferred from their words, but to society conceived as social democracy.

Here’s an abbreviated view of Weaver’s conclusions regarding these aims of progressive education:

• Absolute truth does not exist. No knowledge is binding.
• The mind is a tyrant which denies the rights of the body and must be democratized, forced into equity.
• The student’s aim is not to save his soul, inherit past wisdom, or advance himself or human knowledge, but to become a member of a future, ill-defined utopia.

How sad that Weaver recognized, understood, and warned us about this back in the 1950s and yet as a nation we didn’t listen…a prophet in his own land. One can only hope that the American people will come to realize the importance of local elections, particularly school board elections.

Of course, this radicalization has affected more than just education, but every aspect of society. Can we overcome this societal radicalization? I'm not sure. Back in 1949 -- when I was just a little kid -- another modern prophet, T. S. Eliot, wrote:

"Our own period is one of decline; that the standards of culture are lower than they were fifty years ago; and that the evidences of this decline are visible in every department of human activity" [Notes Toward the Definition of Culture, p. 17].

Intellect and Will: Rarely Do the Twain Meet

Confronted by all the hatred and stupidity evident in both our world and our country, I try to view it all from an eternal or more comprehensive perspective. It’s remarkable and disturbing that so many human beings seem to have lost or, at best, misplaced their humanity. We — at least some of us — believe that God, by creating us in His image and likeness, imbued us with both intellect and will, gifts that define our humanity and separate us from other earthly creatures. Sadly, far too many of us do not apply either of these gifts very well, or focus only on one and ignore the other. 

Leadership, of course, demands the effective, coordinated application of both intellect and will. A leader with a keen intellect, who strives to understand the situation facing him, but lacks the courage to make a meaningful decision and apply his will correctly is essentially powerless. Fundamentally he knows what he should do but fears doing it. As you might expect, the results are usually catastrophic. I fear that our president and those who surround him have succumbed to this failing whenever the real interests of our nation are at stake. Instead they focus the administration’s will on a collection of “woke” sideshows that seem only to undermine our culture and its moral and spiritual roots. I trust they will soon come to recognize the nature of the challenges facing them and develop the will to act courageously and decisively in the defense of our civilization. I won’t hold my breath, though. Ideologues rarely change their core beliefs unless they undergo a radical conversion. St. Paul is among the most obvious examples. Actively involved in the murder and imprisonment of first-generation Christians, he didn’t change; God changed him. As Christians we must pray for a global metanoia, a Pauline-like conversion through which God will change the hearts and minds of those striving to destroy His Church and suppress His holy Word.

But the willful leader who lacks understanding can be equally, perhaps more, dangerous. By failing to use his intellect and grasp the reality of the situation, including its moral aspects, he is motivated only by ignorance and emotion. This most often leads to very destructive results. For example, the terrorist, blinded and consumed by the ideology that motivates him, applies his will amorally and, focused solely on the attainment of the ideological goal, leaves his intellect far behind. This is why negotiation with committed and thoroughly indoctrinated terrorists is inevitably fruitless. Driven by their ideology, they are unmoved by arguments based on truth and morality. The only truth is their truth; all else are signs of weakness. They will take advantage of the weaknesses of others and use them to achieve their ideological ends. At one point in our diplomatic history, we refused to negotiate with terrorists because it was immoral and inevitably led to a degradation of the current situation. Now we not only negotiate with the demonic, but also allow it to dictate the terms. As I have said elsewhere, the willful, especially those captivated by evil, respect only power and the willingness to apply it.

Do I side with the Israelis in the current conflict? Yes, indeed — not because they are perfect, because they’re not. Like every nation, including our own, they have done some very stupid and immoral things. But they at least struggle to do what is right. All those Americans protesting in our streets and on our campuses in support of Hamas are too ignorant or too filled with hate to understand the idiotic slogans they chant. What to do with them? Because as a nation we respect free speech, about all we can do is shame them, make them understand that actions and words have consequences that might affect their current or future lives, and inundate them with the truth. And if Israel destroys Hamas, support for this specific terrorist group will likely fade away quickly. And most importantly pray for our ally Israel.

Homily: 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year A

Readings: Is 45: 1,4-6; Ps 96; 1 Thes 1:1-5; Mt 22:15-21

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I have a coin at home, a Roman denarius. An archaeologist friend gave it to me years ago as a gift. He found it in Israel, and on it you can still make out the faint image of Tiberius Caesar, and an inscription declaring him the “son of the divine Augustus,” the son of God.

I can’t help but wonder if perhaps it’s the very coin the Pharisees showed Jesus as He confronted them in today’s Gospel passage. I expect that there were probably a few million of those coins floating around the Holy Land in the 1^st century, so it’s highly unlikely…but not impossible.

Of course, the emperors weren’t fools...well, most of them weren’t. Their images appeared on all Roman coins because it was good advertising, the emperor keeping his image in front of his subjects. He projected an image of power, stability, peace, and prosperity. For Emperors, image was important.

In our first reading the prophet Isaiah seemed to agree as he reminded Cyrus, the great Persian Emperor, that God had called him by name, given him a title, and empowered him in 539 BC to free God’s people from their captivity.

God calls us by name, too, because we’re created in the image of the One who anoints us, gives us a title, and calls us “beloved”. We’re created in the image of One who is always with us, and if we look in a mirror, and see only our own face staring back, then we’re blind to the truth, as were so many of the Pharisees. God stood in their midst, and they failed to recognize Him; they didn’t see themselves in Him.

So intent on projecting an image of obedience to the Law, they never considered why God gave them the Law in the first place.

So caught up with being seen as religious, they forgot the importance of actually being holy.

Weighed down by externals they never internalized the command to love God and neighbor.

So pleased with themselves, they ignored God’s call to bring His Presence and love to others, especially the poor.

And so, they do the unthinkable: they scheme and plot to entrap the eternal Word of God. To do so, the Pharisees join forces with a group they despise, the Herodians, because the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Oh, they conjure up this clever question with only a lose-lose answer. They turn to Jesus, flattering Him with words they don’t believe, then ask: “Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?”

If Jesus says, “Yes, it’s lawful,” the Pharisees can condemn Him to the people as a friend of the despised Romans.

If He says, “No,” the Herodians, who happily served the Romans, can bring charges against Him for telling the people not to pay their taxes.

But once again, Jesus ruins their schemes by turning the tables on them: When a Pharisee holds up that Roman denarius, Jesus asks, "Whose image is this and whose inscription…" And then he tells them, "Render to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God."

Now a lot of folks focus on the first part of that command – the rendering to Caesar part – but how many of us few consider the second part?

Yes, we pay our taxes and today’s Caesars, use them for all kinds of wondrous things. And their images hang on the walls of our public buildings, in the post office, right beside those other pictures in the post office.

But what should we render to God? Can we render anything to God?

You see, like Tiberius and like Isaiah, in effect Jesus tells the Pharisees that image is truly important. Since we’re created in God’s image, we can render to Him all that we are: we can give him all of our being! For by giving ourselves to God, we render to Him His image.

For Jesus, the question isn’t “How much do you owe me in taxes?” But rather, “Who do you look like, and who are you called to be?” When we realize who we look like, that we are created in His image, we can then begin to recognize Him in the faces of those around us.

For years, at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen, as I served a plate of my wife, Diane’s, wonderful cooking and handed it to the woman standing before me, I was amazed to realize I was staring into the face and image of God. Even if she didn’t believe in God – and she did – I could still see in her the image of God.

This is truly amazing! It’s an absolutely marvelous thing! That God reveals Himself to us through us.

When the Samaritan found that wounded man on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, what did he see but the image of God beaten, bloodied, disfigured. And what did he use to ensure the innkeeper would care for the man while he was away? He used money, two denarii, the image of Caesar. He didn’t misuse money as Judas did when he sold Jesus for 30 pieces of silver, and thus betrayed the image of God made man.

For money is a means: we need to have some, but when we have too much of it, we run the risk of using it for selfish ends, believing that paradise, at least a little piece of it, can be found on earth. How fitting that our currency in this country bears the words, “In God we trust” – if only as a reminder that if we place our trust in money, we worship a false god. Much better to use the wealth we have to help our neighbor, seeing in him the image of God!

You see, sisters and brothers, at some point we will be judged. We won’t be asked how many holy hours we’ve made, or how many Rosaries we’ve said. Now, those are good things – because they keep our minds and hearts tuned and turned to God.

But we all know what we’ll be asked. It’s one of the clearest texts in the Gospels, Matthew 25. “I was hungry and thirsty. I was sick and in pain. I was in prison,” Jesus will tell us, and then He’ll ask. “But did you pay attention to me? “You should have known that I hide, not only within the poor, but within sinners as well. You know, those people we avoid like the plague.

“You missed me, day after day, every day. “Oh, you handed me your spare change, or a few bucks, and once in a while even wrote big check, but that just eased your conscience…Yes, I took your money, but you never offered your time, your attention, your interest. I never experienced your love.”

When God says all this to us, you and I will stand there sputtering, “Lord, do you mean to say You were that scary-looking guy, who asked me for a ride.”

“…or that irritating old woman, in front of Walmart, always looking for a handout? She was You too?

“…or that neighbor who loves to talk, on and on, about all his troubles? That’s you?”

Yes, you and I are here today at Mass, worshiping the One who suffered and was abandoned and uncared for, whom no one thought of comforting, and whose passion brings tears to our eyes.

Then, we will leave, through that door, and later, when we meet Him, we don’t recognize Him. We used to call it a sin of omission, but I prefer to call it a sin of indifference. Our indifference to others offends God far more than the mistakes we make on this journey of ours.

St. Paul, in our 2^nd reading, reminds us that “the Gospel didn’t come to you in word alone, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit.”

But how often do you and I call on the power of the Holy Spirit? In the Creed, we call Him, “the Lord and Giver of life.” To refuse God’s gift of the Holy Spirit is to refuse life. And the life God gives us is His own, His Eucharistic life, a life of loving with an active love. For us to reject God’s life is to reject the gift of eternal life.

As Mass ends today, Father will extend God’s blessing to us all; then you’ll hear me say¸ “Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life.” And with our lives filled with God’s life, the Eucharistic gift of Jesus, we can carry the Gospel, carry His love, to all we encounter.

If we accept the challenge, if we carry God’s love into the world, the Holy Spirit will come and teach us all things.

He’ll change us, if we want Him to, if we welcome Him, if we stop resisting Him, and if we look to Him for everything.

If we render to him all that is His…our very lives.

 

Overcoming Hatred and Evil

"There will be peace in the Middle East only when the Arabs love their children more than they hate Israel.” ~ Golda Meir

Have you been listening to the ongoing controversy about the attack on the Gaza hospital? If you haven't, you must be stranded on a desert island awaiting rescue. Apparently, according to Hamas (a collection of rapists, torturers, and murderers of women and children), as well as every Islamic nation, and most Western media, Israeli aircraft bombed a Gaza hospital and killed hundreds of patients and medical personnel. Did the mainstream media question this assertion by Hamas, an organization whose leaders cannot open their mouths without lying? Did they tell us they were investigating these claims to see if they were true? No, they simply accepted them as true. But then Israel stated it has extremely convincing evidence that the catastrophe at the hospital resulted from an errant missile fired by Islamist terrorists supporting Hamas. Our own intelligence agencies have confirmed the same. And, believe me, anyone who knows anything about the effects of bombing know full well the damage was not the result of a bomb dropped by an aircraft. This has been generally ignored by all the usual suspects who, as expected, accept the word of baby killers and rapists over the that of the Israeli government and our intelligence agencies. One underlying belief that motivates all those accusing Israel, or just blindly accepting the Hamas lies, is what we like to call anti-Semitism, which I will translate into the far more descriptive, “hatred of Jews,” especially those who live in Israel.

Of course, our president, while declaring his full support for Israel, just can’t bring himself to mention the nasty elephant in the room: the terrorist Islamic Republic of Iran. Addressing the states that support Hamas and hate Israel, which presumably includes Iran, he tells them all not to do anything rash by saying, “Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.” What exactly does that mean? If our enemies don’t know, they will logically assume we don’t either. The president’s words are certainly no real threat to those who plan to do Israel and us real harm. How much more effective it would be if President Biden simply told them bluntly that by joining in this conflict, they might well precipitate World War III. To prevent this we would be forced to attack them in their homelands, destroying their military and industrial infrastructures. It would seem, however, the administration will continue to deal with our enemies as if they were rational beings. But that is not the case. Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran, and too many others are zealots who have no problem sacrificing their own people for their quasi-religious cause. Life and death mean little to those driven solely by their hateful ideology. These are not easy people to deal with, but one thing we know: they respect power only when believe it will be used against them.

The next few months should be very interesting. Sadly, Hamas is run and staffed by vicious people so there’s little chance they will change without God’s help. This is true also of Hezbollah, Iran, and far too many others blinded by sheer hatred. Continued peace for Israel will likely require a lengthy and challenging effort to destroy the war-making capability of Hamas and remove it from power in Gaza. There is much our nation can do to lessen the threat to Israel, and the greater threat to Western civilization. I’m just not very confident our current political leadership has the courage and the will to do what must be done. We pray for peace, but for continuing peace. Pray, too, for the conversion of all who despise the Lord and His people. After all, with God, all things are possible.

 

Homily: Thursday, 28 Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Rom 1:16-25; Psalm 19; Luke 11:37-41

In my previous parish, a retired bishop who summered in our town used to help us out by celebrating one of the Sunday Masses. One Sunday, just before the dismissal, the bishop blessed a couple who were celebrating their 50^th wedding anniversary. As you might expect, after the blessing the entire congregation applauded.

After Mass a parishioner approached me in the parking lot. He was very upset because of the applause which he felt was entirely out of place at Mass. At first, I thought he was joking, and my reaction probably wasn’t what he’d hoped for. He went from upset to furious. I tried to calm him down by explaining that when something especially good happens in the lives of members of our parish community, it’s entirely appropriate for the community to share in their joy. Applause is simply our culture’s way of expressing that joy. And doing so at the end of Mass, right before the dismissal, is also appropriate. It didn’t work. Family in tow, he stormed off to his car. I should have asked him why he complained to me and not to the bishop. I’m just a deacon.

Sadly, he always seemed to come across as a dour, joyless person, more focused on others’ faults than on the good in them. I didn’t doubt his faith, but I didn’t see a lot of Christian love there. But he seemed to be devout, and because only God knows his heart, I won’t judge him. We all have some of the Pharisee in us – some more, some less – and I mention this man because it seemed a bit more evident in his case.

In today’s Gospel reading Luke describes a meal Jesus had at a Pharisee’s home. I find it interesting that, for a group who didn’t trust or like Jesus very much, the Pharisees seemed to have Him over for dinner a lot. Well, as it turned out, Jesus neglected to perform the ritual washing before dinner – an omission that offended his host. I’m sure Jesus didn’t forget, but did this intentionally to put the spotlight on the man’s hypocrisy. Certainly, that was the result.

Our Lord used some harsh words in His rebuke:

“…you Pharisees! Although you cleanse the outside of the cup and the dish, inside you are filled with plunder and evil. You fools! Did not the maker of the outside also make the inside?”

Of course, He’s no longer talking about cups and dishes. He’s talking about the human heart. Jesus isn’t criticizing the ritual washing itself. No, He’s criticizing the Pharisee’s placing more importance on the ritual than on obeying the commandment to love God and neighbor.

For example, as Catholics we observe many rituals. We’re observing one now by following very specific rubrics as we celebrate this rite today. And this is as it should be, because the rite is as old as the Church itself, designed to bring us closer to God through hearing His word and receiving Jesus in the Eucharist. But the ritual is a means, not an end. The end brings us into communion with Jesus. When we let this happen, Jesus becomes one with us, and transforms our hearts and minds. In other words, what we do on the outside should help us change on the inside.  But when we focus solely on the externals, we break this connection.

Although not directed at Pharisees, Paul’s words today could be applied to them as well:

“…for although they knew God, they did not accord him glory as God or give him thanks. Instead, they became vain in their reasoning, and their senseless minds were darkened. While claiming to be wise, they became fools…”

Yes, we're all Pharisees sometimes, focused on the outside. And the more devout we are, the more susceptible we are to this not so little vice. We become so focused on the externals, that we neglect the internal. We can get so wrapped up in our devotions and rituals that our focus shifts to ourselves at the expense of others.

We won’t get to heaven by just worrying about ourselves and our own salvation. It’s another of those great Christian paradoxes: we’ll only reach our goal if we forget about ourselves and devote our efforts instead to helping others achieve theirs. When I talk with engaged couples, I always tell each of them, that their most important task is to help the other get to heaven. That's what true love is all about.

Gerard Manley Hopkins, the 19^th Century Jesuit poet, frequently corresponded with the poet laureate of England, his friend Robert Bridges. Bridges, an agnostic, once wrote, asking Hopkins how he could learn to believe. I suppose he expected some deep theological answer. Hopkins replied in a letter with only two words, the words Jesus left with the Pharisees: “Give alms.”

Yes, brothers and sisters, give alms. Care for others. Wash some feet. Imitate Jesus. Heal, forgive, and serve each other. Then everything will be clean for you, inside and outside.

Homily: Mass and Healing Service - Thursday, 27th Week in Ordinary Time

Note: On Thursday evening, Father Glen celebrated a special Mass, which was followed by a Healing Service for all who sought healing of any kind, whether physical, mental, spiritual, or the healing of broken or damaged relationships. Many came and were prayed over by our prayer teams who laid hands on each person and asked the Holy Spirit to provide the healing they sought.

I was humbled to have been asked to preach to this gathering of the faithful who came to hear God's Word and then joined together in Eucharistic Communion with our Lord Jesus Christ and with each other.

My homily follows...

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Readings: Mal 3:13-20b • Psalm 1 • Gospel: Lk 11:5-13

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Good evening, everyone. Praise God. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Because we’re here in Jesus’ name, the Holy Spirit is with us in all His power, in all His glory, so that in Him we can come to know our loving Father better, all through Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Let me begin by saying I’m in deep water today, way out of my depth…but that’s the way it usually is whenever we set out to do God’s work. So often we’re sure we know what God is calling us to do, but then suddenly He teaches us otherwise. After all, it’s not our work; it’s God’s work. And you and I can never approach God’s work from a position of strength. It’s always from weakness.

I worried a bit about what I’d say tonight, but then finally, did what I should have done from the beginning, I prayed…and I asked the Spirit to guide me, to tell me what to say.

As God revealed through the prophet Malachi, we will see “the distinction between the one who serves God, and the one who does not.” He calls us only to serve Him.

Healing is such a personal thing. No two of us come to healing from the same place; each journey is different, and so is the baggage we carry with us. Because we’re all so amazingly and wonderfully different, what can I say that will apply to us all? But then the Spirit turned my aging brain to the parable staring me right in the face.

“Ask and you shall receive; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened to you...”

Comforting words, aren’t they? But I think too many of us take those words and extract only what we want to hear. We focus so much on the things of our lives, the uniquely human activities and distractions that occupy so much of our time. Distracted by these “things,” we often misinterpret what Jesus is telling us about prayer – for that’s what this parable’s all about. We focus on our problems, our hurts and illnesses, our burdens, our confused lives…and then, like the unrelenting friend in the parable, if we just pray really hard, and persist, then God will finally say, “Okay, okay,” and give us whatever we ask.

To believe this is to see this parable from a very literal, very human perspective, one that sees God as this sleepy neighbor who only responds if we nag Him relentlessly. We forget, it’s a parable, and God is no sleepy neighbor who needs persuading.

Jesus continues with another brief parable, this time referring to that special human relationship between parent and child.

“What father among you will give his son a snake if he asks for a fish, or hand him a scorpion if he asks for an egg?”

And we all say, “I’d never do that!” — because we love our children. And because God loves us even more, obviously He’ll give us whatever we ask. The trouble is, too often, instead of asking for a fish or an egg, we ask for the snake or the scorpion. Then, dissatisfied with God’s response, we do act like children. We get angry with God. We throw little tantrums and turn away from Him. After all, we asked, but didn’t receive.

Do we think we can manipulate God, that if we ask Him repeatedly, we somehow obligate Him? Or maybe we think, “If God is a loving and caring Father who gives only ‘good’ things, why must we persist in asking? Why do we have to ask at all?”

Let’s not forget that Jesus tells us to pray to the Father, “Thy will be done.” Persistence in prayer – as Paul reminds us, “pray without ceasing” – is for our benefit, not God’s, so we must pray boldly for conformity with God’s will. If the will of the child doesn’t conform to the will of the Father, the child, disregarding all personal desire, must repeat with Jesus in the Garden, “...not my will, but yours.” You see, Jesus wants us to pray for everything good. This is what the Father wants for us.

Then, at the end of the parable, we encounter a gift:

“If you, with all your sins, know how to give your children good things, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?”

What Jesus promises is far better than anything we had in mind. He promises the Holy Spirit, the fullness of the love shared by Father, Son and Holy Spirit. What could be better than that?

And yet, how often in prayer do we ask for the Holy Spirit? Only God’s grace, given freely by the Holy Spirit through the saving power of the Son, can save us from our sinfulness and raise us to new life in Him. In the Creed we call the Holy Spirit, “the Lord and Giver of Life.” This is the healing we all need. Anything else is just God’s little surprise for us. Immersed in that holy flow of grace, what we receive is totally aligned with All Goodness, All Love, all perfect answers to our fervent prayer.

And if you receive exactly what you asked for, rejoice! Jump for joy because you are one with the will of our loving God…your prayer was answered! Sometimes the answer Is “No”, or “Maybe later”, or “I have a better solution.” We can be ok with those answers when we realize they’re given in love. Always in love, sisters and brothers, no matter how difficult and contrary they seem at the moment.

Reviewing my own life, all its stupid mistakes, its sinfulness, self-built obstacles, and crazy moments, I see the work, the signature, of my loving God. I can say only, “Thank You, Lord, for being there always, even when I didn’t realize it.”

In prayer, then, as in all things, Jesus is our model. Recall the raising of the dead Lazarus, and how Jesus prayed:

“Father, I thank you for having heard me. I know that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd, that they may believe that you sent me.”

You and I are in that crowd; it’s all meant for us. The all-powerful intercession we rely on when we pray in Jesus’ name, and conform our own prayer to His. You see, what Jesus is really telling us is that our prayer must be an act of simple trust, the kind of trust you see in the face of a child who knows his parent will never harm him. And like that child, we often don’t know what’s good or bad for us. But God, the good parent, tells us, “Trust me. You’ll thank me for it later.”

You and I can teach God nothing, but we can ask everything of Him, entrusting to Him the judgment of our real needs. It’s our duty to ask, to pray. We’re His children, and should want to receive everything from His hand. But we should ask, seek and knock so that we may discover God’s will for us, and then ask for the courage and strength to do it.

Certainly, we can always ask God for specific things, but more important is to enter into His presence in silence and solitude of heart. For the Holy Spirit dwells in the depths of your soul, at the very center of your being. We can best reach Him only when we grow silent. Interior silence and the ability to love God in a kind of nakedness of spirit are gifts of the Holy Spirit, sent by the Father, and promised to us by the revelation of His Son that “Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.”

Because of this we’re certain of the Father’s love.

Because of this we can leave behind all anxiety and fear, all uncertainty, all distrust.

Because of this we need not worry about our future; or to calculate the state of our relationship with God.

Because of this we can come to want what God wants, to acknowledge that good, and nothing but good, comes only from God, only from Our Father.

Yes, Our Father: not just mine, not just yours, ours. By the very fact that we are put into relationship with God, as sons and daughters of the Father, we find ourselves in relationship with one another. So together, in Eucharistic communion with Jesus Christ and each other, let’s enter into prayerful conversation with our God, to get a real relationship going in our asking, seeking, and knocking, and prepare to be surprised. To be loved. To be healed.

Pray for the healing of those seated around you, and then let God do His healing work.

Praised be Jesus Christ…now and forever.