The occasional, often ill-considered thoughts of a Roman Catholic permanent deacon who is ever grateful to God for his existence. Despite the strangeness we encounter in this life, all the suffering we witness and endure, being is good, so good I am sometimes unable to contain my joy. Deo gratias!


Although I am an ordained deacon of the Catholic Church, the opinions expressed in this blog are my personal opinions. In offering these personal opinions I am not acting as a representative of the Church or any Church organization.

Showing posts with label Good Samaritan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Good Samaritan. Show all posts

Thursday, September 3, 2020

COVID-19 Bible Study Reflection #15: A Relationship of Love

In today’s reflection I hope to focus on several different but interrelated aspects of our relationship with God:

·  God’s limitless love for us, best expressed by the Incarnation
·  Our love for God, expressed by our obedience to His commandments
·  The manifestation of this loving relationship in how we love each other
——————————-
And so, let’s look first at God’s love for you, His love for me…
“…everyone who acknowledges me before others the Son of Man will acknowledge before the angels of God” [Lk 12:8].
Are you moved and filled with hope when you hear these wonderful words of Jesus? Could we hope for much more than to be acknowledged before the angels? What Good News this is – God’s promise of salvation and His call to evangelization.
And yet, sadly, I encounter so many people who, because of their sins, almost despair of achieving salvation. Among their mistakes, of course, is the idea that they, or indeed anyone, can achieve salvation. We can’t…not on our own. Salvation, like every other good thing, is a gift from God.
A few years ago, in his homily during Mass at St. Martha’s House, the Vatican guesthouse where he lives, Pope Francis said:
“One of the hardest things for all of us Christians to understand, is the gratuity of Jesus Christ’s salvation.”
In other words, because God’s love is so far beyond any human love we could ever experience, we find it hard to understand it, much less accept it. How can God love me in my sinfulness? I always seem to be falling instead of rising, always disappointing myself, always disappointing God.
Yes, we are called to obedience, to do as God has commanded us as a response to His gratuitous love. And yet because we are sinful, imperfect creatures, we often fail to live out our faith. We find ourselves, then, in the midst of a battle, but an internal, self-made, and unproductive battle.
The pope continued by suggesting how much better it would be if we would only focus on God’s great commandment:
“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself” [Lk 10:27].
This is the commandment that saves. This is the love that truly reflects God’s gratuitous love for us. How did St. Peter put it?
“Above all, let your love for one another be intense, because love covers a multitude of sins” [1 Pt 4:8].
Do you and I believe the Lord saves us freely, that we have done nothing to merit salvation? I hope so, because it’s the truth, the Good News we’re called to take to others. This is the remarkable love, God’s love, we’re called to share with the world. And it’s through this sharing of God’s love that we can acknowledge Jesus Christ before others. Never forget what St. Paul wrote to Timothy:
“God our savior… wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth” [1 Tim 2:3-4].
Don’t place limits on God’s limitless love, but put aside your judgment of others, and instead do God’s work in the world by helping others “come to knowledge of the truth” which is Jesus Christ...
For He, and only He, is “the Way and the Truth and the Life” [Jn 14:6].
——————————-
Okay, we know that God loves us. But what does He expect of us?
Let’s turn first to the Letter to the Romans, the longest of St. Paul’s letters. In many respects it’s also the most important of his letters in that it touches on all the major themes of the Gospel. It’s really a treatise on the Good News of Jesus Christ.

"Paul, a slave of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God...to all the beloved of God in Rome...called to belong to Jesus Christ...called to be holy [Rom 1:1,6,7].
Romans begins with Paul describing himself as “a slave of Christ Jesus” [Rom 1:1]. Some folks find this a bit odd. After all, as baptized Christians, are we not adopted children of the Father? Doesn’t the Church teach that we’re sisters and brothers of Christ? And doesn’t Jesus call His disciples His friends?

Which, then, are we? Brother, sister, friend, or slave? Well, the only correct answer is “all of the above.”
Here is another wonderful paradox of our Christian faith. Yes, Paul is right: in a sense, we are slaves – servants called to do the will of God. But because we are also God’s children, and because Jesus calls us to be His friends, God doesn’t demand slavish obedience, an obedience of submission. He instead allows us to choose. We obey our God out of freedom, a freedom arising from our close relationship with Jesus. In a sense we are slaves living in freedom. I told you it was a paradox.
As Jesus’ friends, as His brothers and sisters, we want to do as He asks. We respond obediently just as a slave would, but we do so because we recognize God’s great love for us. In faith we know we are loved by the Father who brought us into being. We are loved by the Son who gave His life for our redemption. We are loved by the Spirit who guides us, inspires us, and leads us on our journey of faith. And in faith we return that love by trusting that God will call us to do only that which is good. In faith we accept that God knows best what’s good for us.
When I was a little guy, my parents bought me my first bicycle as a birthday gift. I could hardly wait to ride it, and so I got up early that next morning, climbed on that little bike and tried to ride it. A valiant attempt, but I immediately fell over onto the driveway and skinned a knee and elbow. I was horrified and embarrassed. I had failed to ride this wonderful thing for which I had waited so long.
My dad, who had witnessed this from the kitchen window, came outside and said: “Look, if you want to learn to ride your new bike, you’ll have to let me teach you. Will you do that?”
I had to think about it. I hated to admit I couldn’t do it on my own, but I really wanted to ride that bike. I wanted the freedom it offered, the ability to go wherever I wanted in our little town. And so, I buried my pride and turned myself over to my dad’s instruction.
An hour later I was pedaling up and down our street, about as happy as a six-year-old could possibly be. My father, too, was smiling, happy I had placed my trust in him and learned an important lesson.
That day I learned I couldn’t do everything myself, that first I had to learn and grow, to accept help. Paul teaches the Romans much the same thing by focusing on God’s call to each of us. 
In Paul’s words, he was “called to be an Apostle” [Rom 1:1] and was writing to those “called to belong to Jesus Christ” [Rom 1:6], to those “called to be holy” [Rom 1:7].
That’s our calling: “to belong to Jesus Christ” and “to be holy.” And Paul’s Letter to the Romans goes on to explain this call.
Jesus, then, calls us to follow Him, to deny ourselves, to take up our own cross, for only by doing so can we be His disciples. But that’s just the beginning, for we’re also called to “make disciples of all nations” [Mt 28:19].
Sounds like a tall order, doesn’t it? And so, how do we do it? 
Not by relying on our human strengths, not by thinking we can do it all ourselves, not by trying to fix things, or solve problems, or convince others to be just like you or just like me. Too often we try to force others, to argue them into discipleship. Believe me, it doesn’t work. I know because I’ve tried.
You see, making disciples is God’s work. Let God work through you, especially through your weaknesses. Most often it means simply being there when another is in need. It means seeing Jesus Christ in your spouse, in your children and grandchildren, in everyone you meet…and letting them see Jesus Christ in you.
Jesus calls us to love the unloved, to feed those who hunger and thirst for God’s presence in their lives. And He calls us to be that presence, to be God’s quiet, loving presence.
We are the called, brothers and sisters. This is our identity as Christians. This is the meaning of our lives. Let’s all try to live a life worthy of our calling.
Our loving relationship with God, then, must also extend to others.
———————- 
Jesus was always teaching, wasn’t He? And like any good teacher, He was always being questioned.
Even as a youth, as a twelve-year-old in the Temple, Jesus answered the questions of the wise. Luke tells us that “all who heard him were astounded at his understanding and his answers” [Lk 2:47]. Isn’t that remarkable? They, the Temple’s wise ones, were questioning Him!
And the questions continued right up to that final barrage Jesus received from Pilate, as He stood before him facing death. Even Pilate, the Roman Patrician who no doubt considered the Jews little more than rabble – even Pilate sought answers from this Jesus, this teacher whom he would soon judge under man's law. 
“Are you the King of the Jews?” [Jn 18:33]
“Where are you from?” [Jn 19:9]
“Do you not you know that I have…power to crucify you?” [Jn 19:10]
And, of course, that other question, sneered by Pilate, that first-century relativist: 
“What is truth?” [Jn 18:38]
Pilate should have asked, “Who is truth?”, because he was in the presence of “the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”
Almost everyone Jesus met asked Him questions. It’s as if, somehow, they all knew, if only subconsciously, who He really was. Those He encountered seemed to sense He was far more than just a teacher. What did the centurion say as he looked up at the crucified Jesus?
“Truly this was the Son of God” [Mt 27:54].
And then there was the scholar who approached Jesus and asked:
"Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" [Lk 10:25]
The scholar, of course, was testing Jesus. He knew the answer to his question because it was right there in the Word of God. And so, Jesus tests the tester with a question of His own:
“What is written in the Law? [Lk 10:26]
As expected, the scholar went directly to Scripture and provided the correct answer:
“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself” [Lk 10:27].
But it’s not necessary to be a scholar to know God and what He expects of us. Indeed, just moments before Jesus had prayed to the Father:
“I give you praise, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike.” [Lk 10:21]
But not being very childlike, the scholar, hoping more to justify himself than to learn, asks Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” In His answer Jesus offers us a gift, the Parable of the Good Samaritan, a parable both scholar and childlike can understand: 
“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho...” [Lk 10:30]
But what exactly did the Samaritan do? After all, he was a Samaritan, despised by the Jews, thought to be outside the Law. And yet, he obeys that Law, doesn’t he? Well, at the very least, he listened to his well-formed conscience and acted righteously. And this set him on the path to eternal life. Remember that original question: 
“Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” [Lk 10:25]
This is what Jesus' answer is all about. Three encountered the wounded man on the road, but only one of the three did anything to help. How did Jesus put it? “Many are called but few are chosen” [Mt 22:14]
And so today, let’s reflect on our own lives. Who are the wounded you and I encounter? The physically wounded? Or mentally wounded? Or spiritually wounded? Do we even recognize them in the busyness of our lives? Or perhaps we see them, but turn away, preferring not to be bothered. Anyway, someone else will take care of them.
Is this how we hope to inherit eternal life? As Christians we should know better. To inherit eternal life, we must come to know God in faith, to know Him as the Way, the Truth, and the Life. 
This knowing of God is really a knowledge of love. As John reminds us: to know the Truth that is God is to know God, who "is Love" [1 Jn. 4:16]. It always comes back to Love, doesn’t it? To love the Lord your God with all your being, and to love your neighbor as yourself.
How did Mother Teresa put it? "If you judge people, you have no time to love them." Yes, indeed, we spend so much time judging others, and so little time loving them.
St. James reminded us all of this when he wrote that "mercy triumphs over judgment" [Jas 2:13].
We should all thank God for that.

Thursday, July 18, 2019

Homily: 15 Sunday in Ordinary Time - July 14, 2019

Readings: Dt 30:10-14; Ps 69; Col 1:15-20; Lk 10:25-37

-----------------------------------

Don't you just love Moses? In effect he told the Israelites: OK, folks, God's Law is really pretty simple...And you don't have to look for it, because it's already in your hearts.

And that Law, in all its simplicity, is clearly spelled out in today's Gospel passage from Luke: You must love God with everything you have...and love your neighbor as yourself. 

But how many of us do that?  How many of us instead use our minds, hearts, souls and strength to love the perishable things of the world? How many of us seem even to love ourselves more than we love God? And our neighbors? I suppose we tolerate most of them, but do we really love them? 

Consider all the thoughts that cross our minds in the course of a single day. How many are of God and how many are of the things of the world? Yes, indeed, loving God is hard when the world tries to extinguish the light of God's truth. There's a lot of darkness out there, brothers and sisters.

As Pope St. John Paul II often reminded us, the world's darkness is nothing other than a culture of death, one that surrounds us with its evils of war, terrorism, abortion, hatred, infanticide, euthanasia, and so much more. But God is the God of life, who calls us to love Him and each other, even in the midst of all this hatred.
"I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly" [Jn 10:10].
Indeed, how can we love God, while accepting these evils? How can we love our neighbor, but turn our backs on those in need?  Do we even understand whom we're called to love? Like the scribe in today's Gospel, will we too be surprised by the Lord's answer when we ask Him: "And who is my neighbor?" [Lk 10:29]

Well, he's not just the guy next door, the one who joins you for golf on Tuesday, or just the woman who plays Mahjong with you on Thursday...you know, all those folks we like, the ones who are amazingly just like us. 

No, Jesus gets a little radical as He redefines neighbor. 

\Our neighbor, He tells us, is the stranger, the one we've been taught to distrust. The one who's not at all like you and me. He's also the public sinner, the 20-year-old addict, the pusher, scared to death as he awaits trial in the county jail in Bushnell. She's the down and out, the homeless single mom with three kids, wondering how she'll keep her family together, where the next meal will come from. 

That's right, Jesus tells us, our neighbor includes all those wounded by life. And then Jesus challenges us: Stop what you're doing and care for my people.

To the priest and the Levite in the parable, God's house was the Temple in Jerusalem. But Jesus teaches his disciples that God dwells in the ditch alongside the road, that they can see His face in the faces of the beaten, the downtrodden, the oppressed, and, yes, in the faces of sinners.

About 45 years ago, out in Monterey, California, I was one of our parish's youth ministers. At one weekly meeting, while discussing the Good Samaritan, I asked the kids to tell the rest of us who in the parable they most closely identified with - the priest, the Levite, or the Samaritan. 

I got the expected answers until this one young man said, "I can't identify with any of those guys. I'm more like the guy who got beat up. And no Samaritan has ever come along to help me."

It was a remarkable moment in the life of that small group of teens. At first everyone laughed, but then, as we talked about it, their opinions began to change. It gradually dawned on them that no one is immune from life's problems and difficulties, that sometimes every single one of us needs help, needs God's healing touch.

Years later when we were living in Massachusetts, our eldest daughter, Erin, chose to attend a college in California. So Diane and I decided to load up the old station wagon (and, believe me, it was old) and drive her there ourselves. 

Somewhere in Arizona, along an empty stretch of Interstate in the middle of the desert, the car's engine simply stopped and refused to start. I immediately did what every red-blooded American male does in such a situation. I opened the hood, stared blankly at the engine, and swore at it. My wife and daughter just prayed. 

Within minutes, though, three teenage Navajos in an old pickup stopped on the dirt service road that paralleled the highway and volunteered to drive to a service station a few miles down the road to get some help. But before they could leave, another car pulled over in front of us. The driver, also a Native American, but from Oklahoma, took one look under the hood and had the car running again in about three minutes. In a hurry, he just drove off before I even had a chance to thank him. And then, no longer needed, the three young Navajos gave us a smile and a wave and sped off down the dirt road trailing a cloud of dust.

Since that day I've often thought of those good Samaritans and how they took the time to stop and help this obviously befuddled white guy from Massachusetts.

If our roles had been reversed, would I have stopped for them? As much as I hate to admit it, probably not. How easy it would have been to rationalize a decision to pass them by. After all, we were in a hurry, anxious to get to our hotel before nightfall. Anyway, a state trooper would probably be along soon. And you can't be too careful, can you? You never know the kind of people you'll run into.

How easy it is to magnify our own needs to ensure they outweigh the more obvious needs of others. And by doing so we ignore the command of Jesus and His Church, the command to act always with justice and charity, to act as the Samaritan acted.

The Samaritan wasn't at all responsible for the victim's plight, but in justice he knew he still had to respond to the man's basic human needs.  Yet he didn't stop there, did he? No, he went on to tell the innkeeper that he would pay for all the man's expenses, something that in charity goes beyond anything human justice might require. 

You see, Jesus is telling us that because we are baptized into the Kingship of Christ, we each must reflect the justice of the Kingdom. We're called to go beyond, to give our lives for others, to give them in love without measure. We can do this only do through the grace of Jesus Christ, who makes us part of His Body, the Church, and lifts us up to heights far beyond our own capabilities  What did St Paul say in today's second reading?

'God wanted all things to be reconciled through Him and for Him, everything in heaven and on earth, when he made peace by his death on the Cross.' 

Brothers and sisters, the love of Jesus Christ, the love of His Cross, carries us beyond man's justice, bringing peace and healing where hope has been lost, and lifting us to the joys of God's Kingdom.

He calls each of us to continue His work, to be Good Samaritans to all God's people, and He's given us a roadmap with the path clearly marked. We're asked to obey His commandments and to love -- to love Him with all our being and to love each other. If we do this, He takes care of the rest.

Allow Jesus to make His home within you. This will happen today through the Eucharist, when we are called to Communion with God Himself. God doesn't force Himself on us, but if you allow Him, He will give you the strength you need to cope with any and all of life's challenges.  He will give you the courage you need to accept your calling. He wants us to do His work in the lives of those we touch, even the lives of strangers we encounter on Arizona highways.

Oh, by the way, after graduating from college and going on to earn her Master's degree in education, our daughter's first teaching job was at a mission school on a Navajo reservation.
St. Bonaventure School - Thoreau, NM
God does have a sense of humor, doesn't He?

Monday, October 5, 2015

Homily: Monday, 27th Week of Ordinary Time

Readings: Jon 1:1-2:1-2, 11; Jon 2:3-8; Lk 10:25-37

Jesus was always teaching, wasn’t He? And like any good teacher, He was always being questioned.

Even as a child, as a twelve-year-old in the Temple, Jesus answers the questions of the wise. Luke tells us that “all who heard him were astounded at his understanding and his answers” [Lk 2:47].

And the questions continued right up to that final barrage of questions Jesus received from Pilate, as He stood before him facing death.

Yes, even Pilate, the upper-class Roman who no doubt considered the Jews little more than rabble – even Pilate sought answers from this Jesus, this teacher whom he would soon judge under man's law.

“Are you the King of the Jews?” [Jn 18:33]

“Where are you from?” [Jn 19:9]

“Do you not you know that I have…power to crucify you?” [Jn 19:10]

And of course that sneering question from Pilate: “What is truth?” [Jn 18:38]

Pilate should have asked, “Who is truth?”, because he was in the presence of the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

Yes, almost everyone Jesus met asked Him questions. It’s as if, somehow, they all knew, if only subconsciously, who He really was. Those He encountered seemed to sense He was more than just a teacher.

What did the centurion say as he stood at the foot of the Cross?
“Truly this was the Son of God” [Mt 27:54].
In today’s passage from Luke, Jesus is again asked a question: "Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" [Lk 10:25]

Jesus didn’t need to invent an answer, for the answer was already there in the Word of God. And so He answered with a question of His own: “What is written in the Law? [Lk 10:26]

The scholar responded correctly, didn’t he? He simply went to Scripture:
“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself” [Lk 10:27].
You see, it’s not necessary to be a scholar to know God and what He expects of us. Indeed, just moments before Jesus had prayed to the Father:
“I give you praise, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike.” [Lk 10:21]
But not being very childlike, the scholar, hoping not so much to learn as to justify himself, asks Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” With that Jesus offers us a gift, the Parable of the Good Samaritan, a parable both scholar and childlike can understand:
“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho...” [Lk 10:30]
But what exactly did the Samaritan do? After all, he was a Samaritan, despised by the Jews and thought to be outside the Law. And yet, did he not listen to God’s Word? Did he not obey the Law? Well, at the very least, it seems he listened to his conscience and acted righteously. And this set him on the path to eternal life.

Remember that original question: “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” [Lk 10:25] This is what Jesus' answer is all about.

Yes, there were three who encountered the wounded man on the road, weren’t there? But only one of the three did anything to help. How did Jesus put it? “Many are called but few are chosen” [Mt 22:14]

And so today, let’s reflect on our own lives. Who are the wounded you and I encounter? Those who are physically wounded? Or mentally wounded? Or spiritually wounded? Do we even recognize them in the busyness of our lives? Or perhaps we do see them, but turn away, preferring not to be bothered. Anyway, someone else will take care of them.

Is that how we hope to inherit eternal life? As Christians we should know better. To inherit eternal life, we must come to know God, to know Him as the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

But this knowing of God is knowledge of love. As John reminds us: to know the Truth that is God is to know God, who "is Love" [1 Jn. 4:16]. It always comes back to Love, doesn’t it? To love the Lord your God with all your being, and to love your neighbor as yourself. How did Mother Teresa put it? "If you judge people, you have no time to love them."

Yes, indeed, we spend so much time judging others, and so little time loving them. St. James reminded us all of this when he wrote that "mercy triumphs over judgment" [Jas 2:13].

As we look forward to the Year of Mercy declared by Pope Francis, let's make an effort as individuals and as a parish to replace self-absorption with a love for others, to replace judgment with mercy.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Homily: Wednesday, 3rd Week of Lent

Readings: Dt 4:1, 5-9; Ps 147; Mt 5:17-19

I remember the first time one of my children openly disagreed with me. Trust me, it came as a shock.

It was our elder daughter, and I think she was probably 11 or 12 at the time, perhaps even younger. I had pontificated about something at the dinner table, not expecting anything but full agreement, when she said, “No, Dad, I think you’re wrong about that.” The shock was so great I can’t even recall the subject of our disagreement. I remember thinking only, “Our family life is about to undergo a radical change. These children of ours are more than little clones. They’re actually beginning to think for themselves.”

Of course, the four of them had no doubt been thinking for themselves and disagreeing with me for years, but had wisely chosen to remain silent. I also realized that in the future I’d have to give a little thought to what I intended to say or I’d end up having to defend my every utterance.

Naturally, I didn’t change at all. I still pontificated at the dinner table, saying whatever entered my mind. In truth I expected agreement and obedience without having to teach. And as you might expect, our children grew ever bolder in challenging me. This all came to mind thanks to today’s readings.

In Deuteronomy Moses tells God’s People:
“…take care and be earnestly on your guard not to forget the things which your own eyes have seen, nor let them slip from your memory as long as you live, but teach them to your children and to your children’s children” [Dt 4:9].
Then we hear Jesus in the Gospel:
“…whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do so will be called least in the Kingdom of heaven. But whoever obeys and teaches these commandments will be called greatest in the Kingdom of heaven” [Mt 5:19]
In Moses and Jesus, the Old and New Testaments come together, one pointing to the other, one fulfilling the other – and yet both offering the same Word of God.

Moses pleads with us: Don’t forget. Teach them to your children and your children’s children.

And Jesus demands of us: Obey and teach these commandments.

I’m sure you noticed one of the themes common to both: the call to teach. Yes, both call us to teach, and I wonder to myself…

How well did I teach my children? Did I simply tell them what to think, what to believe, how to act…? Or did I really teach? Did I let them question and probe? Did I help guide them to the truth? Or did I simply tell them and expect unquestioning obedience?

To teach well is hard work because it demands that we place another, the one being taught, above ourselves. It demands humility. And when it comes to teaching the Word of God, the best teacher is the one who lives the Word of God.

This leads us to the second common theme found in our two readings. Both Moses and Jesus also call us to obey. But notice they don’t tell us to extract obedience from others. They don’t tell us to force our children to obey the commandments. No, Moses and Jesus both tell us, the teachers, to do the obeying. For we teach best by how we live. We teach best by our own obedience.

To teach another well, to teach as Jesus taught, means taking the commandments to heart. It means loving our God with all that we have and are, and loving our neighbor as ourselves. Benedict XVI, preaching on the parable of the Good Samaritan, once said:
“Struck in his soul by the lightning flash of mercy, he himself now becomes a neighbor, heedless of any question or danger. The burden of the question thus shifts here. The issue is no longer which other person is a neighbor to me or not. The question is about me. I have to become the neighbor, and when I do, the other person counts for me ‘as myself.’”

Here, too, we encounter the attitude of the true Christian teacher.

Here we find the attitude of the good parent and grandparent.

Here we find the one who is able to love the other as he loves himself

Here we find the one who can lift the other, the one who can bring the other closer to God.