Homily: Christmas Vigil

Note: This isn't a newly written homily. I wrote it some years ago, but tend to use if I'm called to preach at the Christmas Vigil Mass. This year I won't be preaching, but I thought some folks might enjoy my take on Matthew's wonderful genealogy of Our Lord Jesus.

___________________

Readings: Is 62:1-5; Ps 89; Acts 13:16-17,22-25; Mt 1:1-25

___________________

People often wonder why the Church includes this Gospel passage, this rather long genealogy, in tonight’s liturgy. It seems to be a strange selection, doesn’t it? All those names scattered across the generations from Abraham to Moses, then on to David and Solomon, then to the traumatic exile of God’s People in Babylon, and finally to Joseph and Mary and Jesus Himself.

Yes indeed, it might seem a bit odd to have us listen to all those names on the night we celebrate the birth of our Savior. After all, isn’t the name of Jesus enough? Isn’t it enough to know that Jesus is the Son of God? Is it really necessary to tell us about these human ancestors spread out over the centuries from the time of Abraham?

Well, actually, yes! It is. You see, Matthew is simply saying, “Welcome to God’s family! -- because Jesus’s family is also our family.”

Tonight we not only celebrate Jesus’ birth, but we also celebrate our own spiritual roots, deep roots that stretch back nearly 4,000 years to Abraham, our father in faith. You can trace that spiritual lineage from the priest (or deacon) who baptized you, through the bishop who ordained him, all the way back to the apostles and to Jesus Himself. And then you need only turn to these opening verses of Matthew’s Gospel and follow the path all the way back to Abraham.

And do you know something else? You and I share these roots. That’s right – we all have that same family tree. What a gift this is! It’s one of the key messages of the Gospel, a message that takes us deeply into those spiritual roots, and binds us in a living connection with Jesus Christ Himself.

Each of the four Gospels begins by telling us who Jesus is, but each tells us in a different way.

Mark, in his usual Sergeant Friday, just-the-facts-Ma’am approach, begins by saying:

“The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God…”

Yes, Mark wastes no time identifying Jesus.

Luke’s a bit more subtle. He takes half a chapter before he finally gets to Jesus, and then he lets the angel Gabriel do the honors:

“Therefore, the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.”

And John? He echoes the opening words of the Book of Genesis and proclaims the eternal divinity of the Logos, of Jesus, the creative Word of God.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

But Matthew is different. Writing to a Jewish audience, he offers them a very Jewish family tree of Jesus Christ, true God and true man. He begins by proclaiming:

“The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.”

Any Jew would recognize these titles, for they are Messianic titles. At the very start, Matthew is declaring Jesus to be the Messiah, the chosen one. Then, filled with the Spirit, he presents us with a family tree, one generation after another…right here in the very first verses of the New Testament. It’s as if God can’t wait to tell us all about His family.

Realize first that Matthew didn’t intend his genealogy to be complete. And his Jewish readers would know this too. No, Matthew wants to make a point. He wants his readers to understand and accept Jesus’s messianic roots. And so, he divides his genealogy into three sections of 14 names, or 6 sections, each with 7 names.

To the Jew 7 and 14 symbolized completion or perfection. And so Matthew completes his genealogy with the first and only name in the 7^th group of 7: the name of Jesus. For a Jew this was as perfect as you could get.

Although some of these names sound a bit strange to us, they’re all real people and offer a glimpse into the entire history of God’s People. As we run through that list of names we encounter every aspect of human life, and not just the good parts, but also murder, treachery, incest, adultery, prostitution…

We also meet five women, something rarely encountered in ancient genealogies. The last of these is Mary herself, but the first four – Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba – are all Gentiles: 2 Canaanites, a Moabite, and a Hittite. Jesus’s family wasn’t so purely Jewish, was it? Those Gentiles among His ancestors highlight the fact that He came from all of us, and for all of us. How did Isaiah put it?

“Nations shall behold your vindication, and all the kings your glory; you shall be called by a new name, pronounced by the mouth of the LORD.”

It’s a global family, but it’s also a family of sinners. Tamar disguised herself as a prostitute to fool her father-in-law, Judah, and ending up giving birth to his twin sons. Rahab was a prostitute, and yet she becomes a faithful woman. And Bathsheba? King David watched her bathing from his rooftop, invited her in, seduced her, and had her husband killed, so he could marry her. Solomon, their son, started right with God, but then joined his many wives in worshipping idols. It sounds a lot like fodder for the tabloids. 

Some members, like Mary and Joseph, are extraordinary; others, Ruth and Josiah, are faithful; some, like Manasseh and Rehoboam, are despicable; others, like Eliud and Azor, are anonymous, nondescript, men about which we know nothing.

Welcome to my family, Jesus tells us, welcome to my world. It’s the world we encounter when we open the Bible and realize how forgiving our God is. Yes, Jesus’s family is a human family and like most human families, has its share of saints and sinners. But from this, we learn that God’s plan was accomplished through them all, and that He continues to work through us, His people.

Notice, too, throughout the genealogy it's all father to son, and father to son…except at the very end. Matthew completes the genealogy with the words:

“Joseph, the husband of Mary. Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ.”

For Matthew doesn’t declare Joseph to be the father of Jesus. Jesus, the Christ, is born of Mary, the virgin, with God as His Father. Again, what a gift – to be members of God’s eternal family! Indeed, what a gift all of Revelation is!

Do you realize how blessed we are to be Catholic Christians? What we believe and how we worship are not things we’ve concocted. For Christianity is really a revelation rather than a religion. Christianity is God’s Word and Work, not something we came up with. It’s not a collection of man’s feeble attempts to placate some higher power.

It comes totally from God Himself. We believe God revealed Himself through the many generations Matthew enumerates in his genealogy.

It’s a Revelation that runs from Abraham to Moses to David through all the prophets and eventually to Jesus Himself – Who is the fulfillment of it all. Yes, it’s a revelation that reaches its climax in the Incarnation when Mary gives birth, as Matthew describes it, to “Jesus, who is called the Christ.”

You see, brothers and sisters, it’s all a gift. As St. Paul asked the Corinthians: “What do you possess that you have not received?” The answer, of course, is “Nothing!”

And right there at the top of the list of God’s gifts, is that which we receive through our Baptism: the gift of adoption. We became sons and daughters of the Father, part of the Family of God. And so, we join Jesus on that family tree described by Matthew. We are heirs and inherit the fruit of God’s promises made to Abraham and to those who followed him. But as members of God’s family, we must behave as any good son or daughter would behave. We must live in a way that honors the father, in a way that doesn’t dishonor the family.

Another great gift that comes out of this adoption is the privilege of eating at the table of the Family of God. Yes, we can take part in the Eucharistic Feast, the Mass. And what a gift this is! For here, at this altar, Jesus Christ, gives Himself to us, body and blood, soul and divinity, and allows us, the members of His family, to join Him in the most intimate way imaginable. Here, as we come forward to receive the Body and Blood of Christ, we also join each other in a unique Communion in which the Church is most completely herself. Eucharist – the word itself means thanksgiving – is like a great family dinner, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners all rolled into one… and yet far more wonderful and fulfilling.

Brothers and sisters, we are sons and daughters of God! These roots are deeper, stronger, and longer lasting than any human family roots. Indeed, they’re so strong they’ll carry us all the way to eternal life.

And so tonight, as we rejoice in the birth of our Savior, let us also rejoice that our names are written in heaven, as members of the family of Jesus Christ.

Come, Lord Jesus!

 

Homily: Tuesday, 15th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Ex 2:1-15a • Psalm 69 • Mt 11:20-24

____________________

One of the remarkable things about the Old Testament is the willingness of its authors and the Holy Spirit to hide nothing and reveal almost everything about the key characters. This is so very different from all other ancient religious texts, as well as the official records of other ancient societies. In these, the kings and pharaohs and conquerors were all depicted as near perfect, as godlike men who always won, and never failed.

But not so in the Bible. Beginning with Adam and Eve, and progressing through the Patriarchs to Moses, then on through the long list of prophets and Kings, we encounter so many men, and actually quite a few women; and for all of them, nothing is hidden – strengths and weaknesses, sins and virtues, it’s all revealed.  The focus, you see, is not really on these men and women; rather it’s on God, who chooses whomever He desires to fulfill His plan, to carry out His work in the world. 

And often enough He chooses amazingly unlikely people. Today, for example, in our reading from Exodus, we encounter two versions of Moses.

First, a basket-case floating among the bullrushes, a Hebrew infant, “a goodly child”, his mother called him, surrendered by that mother in hope and trust, and retrieved and adopted by Pharaoh’s daughter.

We next encounter a grown Moses, fortyish and entitled, but a man who presumably knew his roots. Driven by a slightly skewed sense of justice, he willfully kills an Egyptian who was persecuting a Hebrew slave laborer. When the word gets out, Moses realizes he too must get out, and heads east to the land of Midian. Moses is introduced to us in all his imperfections. And yet on Mt Horeb God will choose him to free His people and lead them to the Promised Land. How blessed we are that our loving, merciful God chooses us as well, despite all our imperfections. 

Then we encounter Jesus in our Gospel passage from Matthew. You know, a lot of folks seem to see Jesus solely as the warm and fuzzy, group hug, kumbaya Jesus. And yet, in the Gospel He often comes across quite differently.

Today, for example, He’s taking on the role of Prophet. Indeed, He sounds a lot like Isaiah when that prophet proclaimed God’s judgment on the King of Babylon.

“Down to Sheol you will be brought to the depths of the pit!” [Is 14:15]

Jesus says much the same, doesn’t He? Hard words to those neighboring towns, Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum, whose people had witnessed all those miracles, but failed to listen. Because Jesus had been with them, and they had seen and heard it all, their judgment will be harsher.

When I was growing up we had a brief family Bible Study every week. Now, to my knowledge, my mom, who was an RN, had no formal training in Sacred Scripture, but always seemed to share wonderful insights. We’d read a few verses then Mom or Dad would ask what we thought of it.

After reading these comments of Jesus, my brother and I tried to say something like: “The people in those towns are really going to catch it.” But Mom simply said, “You know, Jesus isn’t talking to us about those little towns. He’s talking to us about us.” That took all the wind out of our sails. She went on, explaining it all to us in words similar to these...

“Jesus healed all those people because He loved them, and He wanted others to see and understand that they must listen to Him…But so many didn’t. If we instead turn away from Him, we’re no better than the people of those towns. You see,” Mom told us, “Our Lord has been living with us in our home, speaking to us through our church…and when we receive Holy Communion He actually lives within us. Because of that, we must listen to Him, do as He asks us, and let God’s will rule our lives.”

With that, she ended the lesson. Brothers and sisters, Jesus said the same thing, didn’t He? His Gethsemane prayer, words recorded in all three of the Synoptic Gospels:

“Not what I will, but what you will.”

…words that actually encapsulate His entire teaching. Moses struggled to accept God’s will in his life, and so too did the Apostles.

I guess that’s the question for you and me: What’s the focus of our lives, our will our His will? After all, every day we pray, “Thy will be done,” but do we really seek it?

Homily: Saturday, 1st Week in Ordinary Time - Year 2

Readings: 1 Sam 9:1-4,17-19; 10:1 Ps 21; Mk 2:13-17

_________________

In Rome, not far from the touristy Piazza Navona, is the church of San Luigi dei Francesi (St. Louis of the French). In one of its side chapels are several paintings by Caravaggio depicting events in the life of St. Matthew. They’re all masterpieces but one is especially wonderful: “The Call of Matthew.”

Caravaggio: The Call of Mattthew

The painting depicts the same scene Mark describes in today’s Gospel passage: the call of Levi, the tax collector, a man you and I know better as Matthew. Caravaggio depicts an indoor scene, with Matthew seated at his money table, surrounded by a group of his well-dressed associates. Unlike these others, Jesus is barefoot, as if His simplicity and holiness separate Him from everyone else in the scene. Peter stands beside Jesus.

Although the room is rather dark, a beam of light appears to extend from Jesus, who is pointing directly at Matthew. And Matthew? Seated there with a questioning look on his face, he points his finger as well, but at himself, as if to say, “Who me? You’re calling me?” We seem to sense that Matthew was surprised by this call from our Lord.

Jesus had just called four fisherman -- Simon, Andrew, James and John – and I suspect they, too, were skeptical of this latest choice, the tax collector. After all, the people had nothing but contempt for tax collectors, who not only worked for the despised Roman rulers, but were also known for enriching themselves through a form of legal extortion.

But isn’t it remarkable? Matthew didn’t hesitate. Indeed, he responded immediately. As Mark tells us, “He got up and followed Jesus.” How different from the call of the future King Saul we heard in today’s reading from 1^st Samuel. Matthew and Saul both respond to God’s call, and both will stray. But one repents in faith and becomes apostle and evangelist, while the other continues in his obstinate rejection of God’s will.

Mark then takes us to Matthew’s house, where Jesus and the disciples join the tax collectors and others for a meal. The Pharisees, of course are scandalized that Jesus, this reputed holy man, would associate with these public sinners. But those who consider themselves holier than others are always scandalized, aren’t they?

How does Jesus respond?

“Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. I did not come to call the righteous but sinners” [Mk 2:39].

Indeed, you and I should love and cherish these words because we’re the sinners he’s talking about. How did Paul put it to the Romans: 

“…for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” [Rom 3:23]. 

Six months ago, I had my semi-annual meeting with my physician, a man I think the world of. He informed me that, despite my age and all my aches and pains, I was doing OK, and was probably good for another six months as long as I do as he tells me. Hopeful reassurance indeed. I guess I’ll find out next week when I meet with him once more.

But in Jesus we have a divine physician who promises us, not six months of health, but eternal life.

Brothers and sisters, that He came to call sinners should fill us with hope. As Jesus reminds us, to be a sinner is to be sick, sick spiritually. It’s an illness for which only He has the cure. But we’re called to celebrate that cure and to carry it to others.

Sometimes, though, as a Church, I think we spend an awful lot of our time and resources preaching and teaching and evangelizing the already converted – to the righteous, as Jesus called them.

Now, I know we can’t ignore those who are faithfully following the Way. But how present are we to others, to those who really need to hear the Gospel message? How present are we to those locked in their sinfulness?

It’s easy to fall into the trap of the Pharisees and avoid those who have drifted far away from God, those who believe they have no hope because they’ve never heard God’s saving Word or experienced His healing touch.

Maybe that’s what you and I should do today, shine a little beam of light, the promise of salvation, on another trapped in darkness.

Homily: Christmas Vigil - Year C

Readings: Is 62:1-5; Psalm 89; Acts 13:16-17,22-25; Mt 1:1-25

____________________

People often wonder why the Church includes this Gospel passage, this rather long genealogy, in tonight’s liturgy. It does seem like a strange selection, doesn’t it? All those names scattered across the generations from Abraham to Moses, then on to David and Solomon, then to the traumatic exile of God’s People in Babylon, and finally to Joseph and Mary and Jesus Himself.

Yes indeed, it might seem a bit odd to have us listen to all those names on the night we celebrate the birth of our Savior. After all, isn’t the name of Jesus enough? Isn’t it enough to know that Jesus is the Son of God? Is it really necessary to tell us about these human ancestors spread out over the centuries from the time of Abraham?

Actually, yes! It is.

You see, Matthew is simply saying, “Welcome to God’s family! -- because Jesus’s family is also our family.” Tonight, we not only celebrate Jesus’ birth, but we also celebrate our own spiritual roots, deep roots that stretch back nearly 4,000 years to Abraham, our father in faith.

You can trace that spiritual lineage from the priest (or deacon) who baptized you, through the bishop who ordained him, all the way back to the apostles and to Jesus Himself. And then you need only turn to these opening verses of Matthew’s Gospel and follow the path all the way back to Abraham.

And do you know something else? You and I share these roots. That’s right – we all have that same family tree. What a gift this is! It’s one of the key messages of the Gospel, a message that takes us deeply into those spiritual roots, and binds us in a living connection with Jesus Christ Himself.

Each of the four Gospels begins by telling us who Jesus is, but each tells us in a different way.

Mark, in his usual Sergeant Friday, just-the-facts-Ma’am approach, wastes neither time nor words and identifies Jesus from the beginning: 

“The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God…” [Mk 1:1]

Luke's a bit more subtle. He takes half a chapter before he finally gets to Jesus, and then he lets the Archangel Gabriel do th honors:

“Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God' [Lk 1:35].

And John? He echoes the opening words of the Book of Genesis and proclaims the eternal divinity of the Logos, of Jesus, the creative Word of God.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” [Jn 1:1].

But Matthew is different. Writing to a Jewish audience, he offers them a very Jewish family tree of Jesus Christ, true God and true man. He begins by proclaiming:

“The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham” [Mt 1:1].

Any Jew would recognize these titles, for they are Messianic titles. At the very start, Matthew is declaring Jesus to be the Messiah, the chosen one. Then, filled with the Spirit, he presents us with a family tree, one generation after another…right here in the very first verses of the New Testament. It’s as if God can’t wait to tell us all about His family.

Realize first that Matthew didn’t intend his genealogy to be complete. And his Jewish readers would know this too. No, Matthew wants to make a point. He wants his readers to understand and accept Jesus’s messianic roots. And so, he divides his genealogy into three sections of 14 names, or 6 sections, each with 7 names.

To the Jew 7 and 14 symbolized completion or perfection. Matthew, then, completes his genealogy with the first and only name in the 7^th group of 7: the name of Jesus. For a Jew this was as perfect as you could get.

Although some of these names may sound a bit strange to us, they’re all real people and offer a glimpse into the entire history of God’s Chosen People. As we run through that list of names we encounter every aspect of human life, and not just the good parts, but also murder, treachery, incest, adultery, prostitution…

We also meet five women, something rarely encountered in ancient genealogies. The last of these is Mary herself, but the first four – Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba – are all Gentiles: 2 Canaanites, a Moabite, and a Hittite. Yes, Jesus’s family wasn’t so purely Jewish, was it? Those Gentiles among His ancestors highlight the fact that He came from all of us, and for all of us. How did Isaiah put it?

"Nations shall behold your vindication, and all the kings your glory; you shall be called by a new name, pronounced by the mouth of the Lord" [Is 62:2.

Yes, it’s a global family, but it’s also a family of sinners.

Tamar disguised herself as a prostitute to fool her father-in-law, Judah, and ending up giving birth to his twin sons.

Rahab was a prostitute, and yet become a faithful woman who served the God of Israel.

And Bathsheba? King David watched her bathing from his rooftop, invited her in, seduced her, and had her husband killed, so he could marry her. Solomon, their son, started right with God, but then joined his many wives in worshipping idols.

Some members, like Mary and Joseph, are extraordinary; others, Ruth and Josiah, are faithful; some, like Manasseh and Rehoboam, are despicable; others, like Eliud and Azor, are anonymous, nondescript, men about which we know nothing.

Welcome to my family, Jesus tells us, welcome to my world. It’s the world we encounter when we open the Bible and realize how forgiving our God is. Jesus’s family is a human family and like most human families, has its share of saints and sinners. And from this, we learn that God’s plan was accomplished through them all, and that He continues to work through us, His people.

Notice, too, the genealogy relates father to son, father to son, father to son…except at the very end. Matthew completes the genealogy with the words:

“Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary. Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ.” [Mt 1:16]

For Matthew doesn’t declare Joseph to be the father of Jesus. Jesus, the Christ, is born of Mary, the virgin, with God as His Father. Again, what a gift – to be members of God’s eternal family!

Indeed, what a gift all of Revelation is! Do you realize how blessed we are to be Catholic Christians? What we believe and how we worship are not things we’ve concocted. For Christianity is really a revelation rather than a religion. Christianity is God’s Word and Work, not something we came up with. It’s not a collection of man’s feeble attempts to placate some higher power. It comes totally from God Himself.

We believe God revealed Himself through the many generations Matthew enumerates in his genealogy. It’s a Revelation that runs from Abraham to Moses to David through all the prophets and eventually to Jesus Himself – Who is the fulfillment of it all. It’s a revelation that reaches its climax in the Incarnation when Mary gives birth, as Matthew describes it, to “Jesus, who is called the Christ.”

You see, brothers and sisters, it’s all a gift. As St. Paul asked the Corinthians:

"What do you possess that you have not received?" [1 Cor 4:7]

The answer, of course, is “Nothing!”

And right there at the top of the list of God’s gifts, is that which we receive through our Baptism: the gift of adoption. We became sons and daughters of the Father, part of the Family of God.

And so, we join Jesus on that family tree described by Matthew. We are heirs and inherit the fruit of God’s promises made to Abraham and to those who followed him. But as members of God’s family, we must behave as any good son or daughter would behave. We must live in a way that honors the father, in a way that doesn’t dishonor the family.

Another great gift that comes out of this adoption is the privilege of eating at the table of the Family of God.  We can take part in the Eucharistic Feast, the Mass. And what a gift this is! For here, at this altar, Jesus Christ, gives Himself to us, body and blood, soul and divinity, and allows us, the members of His family, to join Him in the most intimate way imaginable.

Here, as we come forward to receive the Body and Blood of Christ, we also join each other in a unique Communion in which the Church is most completely herself. Eucharist – the word itself means thanksgiving – is like a great family dinner, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners all rolled into one… and yet far more wonderful and fulfilling.

Brothers and sisters, we are sons and daughters of God!  These roots are deeper, stronger, and longer lasting than any human family roots. Indeed, they’re so strong they’ll carry us all the way to eternal life.

And so tonight, as we rejoice in the birth of our Savior, let us also rejoice that our names are written in heaven, as members of the family of Jesus Christ.

"Come, Lord Jesus!" [Rev 22:20]

 

Homily: Saturday, December 18 - Year 2

Readings: Jer 23:5-7; Psalm 72; Mt 1:18-25

____________________

Don't you just love the language of Jeremiah?

"I will raise up a righteous shoot of David...This is the name they give him: 'The LORD our justice'" [Jer 23:5-6].

And then the words of Psalm 72:

"He shall govern your people with justice and your afflicted ones with judgment... the lives of the poor he shall save... And blessed forever be his glorious name; may the whole earth be filled with his glory" [Ps 72:2,13,19].

These words, this Word of God, like the entirety of the Old Testament, point to one thing, the coming of a Savior. Yes, the revealed Word of God points to the incarnate Word of God, a revelation fulfilled in today's Gospel passage from Matthew. Matthew begins his Gospel with a genealogy tracing 2,000 years of the human ancestry of Jesus from Abraham to Mary.

But then Matthew's focus changes. No longer does he look down on Israel through the long lens of history. Quite suddenly, Matthew entered the lives of two people in the little Galilean village of Nazareth. And just as suddenly, these two lives, the lives of Mary and Joseph, were changed by the Word of God, a Word that echoed throughout the entire created universe.

In Luke's Gospel the angel announces this Word to Mary, a Word she accepts into her very being. Indeed, her womb now becomes the center of that universe. But in Matthew we witness another annunciation, this time in a dream to Joseph, who responds in full obedience. Yes, Joseph, goes on to protect, to name, to decide, to nurture, to accept all that God reveals to him...for Joseph is a man of deep faith.

But did you notice, in both annunciations, the angel's appearance begins with the words, "Be not afraid"? The angel wouldn't have said those words unless fear were present. And its presence is understandable. God entered into these two lives in an incomprehensible, a fearful way, in a way that even today, after 2,000 years of theological study and speculation, we still don't fully understand.

Yes, the Incarnation is a mystery, the manifestation of the revelation to Joseph:

"...they shall name him Emmanuel, which means 'God is with us'" [Mt 1:23]. 

But what a promise this is! Brothers and sisters, God is with us!

When we see the world shrouded in so much darkness, like Joseph we can trust completely in the light of Christ to guide us, for God is with us.

When we experience deep discouragement in our lives, when we're overcome by fears or worries, when the challenges seem too great to face, we need only recall God is with us...for we are not alone. Like Joseph, we need only accept God's presence. Turn to Jesus today and let Him enter your heart. Push aside the obstacles that you and world place in His path. 

Pope Francis wrote that many today act as if God doesn't exist.  A "practical relativism", he called it, "a lifestyle which leads to an attachment to financial security, or to a desire for power or human glory at all cost." 

Say no to selfishness. Avoid the pragmatism that transforms us into "mummies" - lifeless beings who deny the reality and the hope of Jesus Christ. In the pope's words: "Our faith is challenged to discern how wine can come from water and how wheat can grow in the midst of weeds...Say yes to a new relationship with Jesus."

This is our Advent call: to open our hearts to Jesus' coming today, in the midst of our darkness, often a very personal darkness. If you and I let Him love us, forgive us, tell us we’re not alone, then we can face any challenge with hope, even when our union with Jesus leads us to the Cross, we are with him on the path to eternal life.

"Come, Lord Jesus" [Rev 22:20], into our hearts today.

 

Women in Sacred Scripture

In recent months I've prepared a number of study guides for our parish's Bible Study program. The goal -- other than to keep me busy during these long months of semi-confinement at home -- is to encourage our nearly 100 participants to continue reading their Bibles until we can get together again in our weekly sessions. I receive occasional positive comments from our participants, and to date no one has panned my little guides, so I suppose that's good. I hope these small efforts have been beneficial.

Anyway, my recent studies include an updated guide for the Book of Ruth and a new guide for the Book of Judith. Currently I'm working on a guide for the Book of Esther, a task that's taking me a bit longer than I had envisioned. Esther, one of the more complex books of Sacred Scripture, is consequently more difficult to present in my usual fairly brief format. I hope to complete it this week, but other life-demands seem to interrupt me whenever I sit down to work. 

Although I didn't intend to focus on Biblical books centered on women, it seems to have worked out that way. In these books we encounter truly remarkable women who, despite numerous social, economic, and even religious barriers, achieved great things. Although they certainly set an example of personal courage and fortitude for women of every age, they were primarily women of tremendous faith. It was their faith and their trust in God that enabled them to overcome many seemingly unsurmountable obstacles. In every instance, the efforts of these women might have led to far better personal situations, but ultimately the end they sought was the greater glory of God. And in this they set the best example for all of us, women and men alike.

Every Christmas, at the Mass during the Night (what we used to call "Midnight Mass") we proclaim the genealogy found in the opening verses of the Gospel according to Matthew [Mt 1:1-17]. If I'm called to preach at that Mass, I like to draw attention to the women whom Matthew includes in the genealogy of Jesus. 

With the sole exception of Mary, the women mentioned by Matthew are all Gentiles: Tamar and Rahab were Canaanites, Ruth was a Moabite, Bathsheba was a Hittite. Jesus' family tree, then, wasn't so purely Jewish, was it? Those Gentiles among His ancestors highlight the fact that He came from all of us and for all of us. 

And He came especially for sinners.  Again, consider those women. With the exception of Ruth, they, like the men who fill the pages of Scripture, were rather public sinners. Tamar disguised herself as a prostitute to fool her father-in-law, Judah, and ended up giving birth to his twin sons. Rahab actually was a prostitute, and yet a faithful woman. And Bathsheba? From the roof of his house King David watched her bathing, invited her in, seduced her, and had her husband killed, so he could marry her. Solomon, their son, started right with God, but eventually joined his many wives in worshipping idols.

Yes, indeed, God's plan of salvation is universal. Humanity, and that includes every one of us, saints and sinners, men and women -- we're all called into the Family of God.

Recently Diane and I were reminded of one of these women mentioned by Matthew. We escaped for a brief vacation and spent several days in the hills of north Georgia. Visiting the town square of Clarkesville, Georgia, we bought a few items from a shop that supports a mission called "Rahab's Rope" dedicated to empowering women and children in the fight against human trafficking. The name of the mission comes from chapter two of the Book of Joshua in which Rahab, a prostitute in Jericho, and an ancestor of Our Lord, helped the Israelite spies escape:

Then she let them down through the window with a rope, for she lived in a house built into the city wall [Jos 2:15].

Rahab, inspired by the Holy Spirit, acted courageously, and helped bring about the Israelite victory. The result: 

Because Rahab the prostitute had hidden the messengers whom Joshua had sent to reconnoiter Jericho, Joshua let her live, along with her father's house and all her family, who dwell in the midst of Israel to this day [Jos 6:25].

But human trafficking isn't something restricted to the third world. It's right here in the U.S.A. and is growing thanks to our now almost wide-open border. The drug cartels have discovered they can make additional millions from the unholy trafficking of women and children whom they essentially sell into slavery. While so many today seem focused on the slavery of our distant past, they ignore the very real, very vicious form of slavery that's right here, right now.

Emptiness

Today, Holy Saturday, is the Church's day of emptiness. In Sacred Scripture, the events of the first Holy Saturday are described by Matthew:

The next day, the one following the day of preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate and said, "Sir, we remember that this imposter while still alive said, 'After three days I will be raised up.' Give orders, then, that the grave be secured until the third day, lest his disciples come and steal him and say to the people, 'He has been raised from the dead.' This last imposture would be worse than the first." Pilate said to them, "The guard is yours; go secure it as best you can." So they went and secured the tomb by fixing a seal to the stone and setting the guard [Mt 27:62-66].

Of course, by the next morning, on the third day, the tomb was empty. Jesus Christ had risen, just as He had told all who would hear. It's that emptiness we experience today, an emptiness encountered in our churches as well.

When I was a boy, my mom would usually stop by our parish church during the day on Holy Saturday. Sometimes she'd take me along. I suppose she wanted me to experience how different the Church was compared to other days. We'd enter the church and kneel in one of the back pews and pray for a few moments. Then we'd leave.

St. Augustine Church in Larchmont, NY was a beautiful neo-Gothic church. I've included below two photos taken a few years ago when Diane and I attended a reunion -- really just a luncheon -- with a few members of my 1958 eighth-grade class from St. Augustine School. I suppose I wanted Diane to see my childhood church where I served as an altar boy, along with the adjacent school which I attended for four years. Sadly, the parochial school is no longer open, but the church still thrives. The photos, particularly the interior photo, give you an idea of the kind of emptiness we experienced on Holy Saturday.

If you visit a Catholic Church today the emptiness is apparent. The holy water fonts are empty, awaiting the evening blessing of baptismal water. In many churches statues are also covered only to be uncovered before or during the Easter Vigil. More telling, though, the sanctuary lamp is extinguished because the tabernacle is open and empty in anticipation of the Easter Vigil Mass. Without the Eucharistic Presence of our Lord, the emptiness becomes very real indeed.

Today, unfortunately, in light of the COVID pandemic many Catholic Churches are unlocked only for the celebration of Mass (with very limited attendance) or on a few other special occasions; otherwise the doors are locked up tight. I find that odd and disturbing, especially during a pandemic when people experience a greater need to visit their parish church, to take time to pray in a sacred place. It's not as if hordes of parishioners will suddenly descend on the church and willingly violate the "social distancing" protocols. Even more disturbing, as a Eucharistic Church, we have denied the Eucharist to thousands of Catholics who, because of age, illness, or injury, are unable to attend Mass or suffer from conditions that might result in serious health issues if they contract the virus. Hospitals and healthcare facilities have developed the means to safely treat those in their care. It would seem the Church could apply some of these same protocols to address the spiritual health of its people. All that's needed is a little creativity. But I suppose it's much easier just to listen to the politicians and attorneys and shut things down.

Some months ago, a parishioner, an elderly, home-bound woman, phoned me just to chat. During our conversation she challenged me with, "My Methodist neighbor visits and prays with me several times each week. I get the feeling my own Church simply doesn't care about me at all. They used to bring me the Eucharist. Now, nothing. When I call them, I'm told to go online, something I can't do." She, too, is experiencing a kind of emptiness, but not just on Holy Saturday. How many others sit at home, forced into spiritual loneliness, while struggling to keep the faith?

I don't know the answer. I'm not that smart. But I'm sure there are those in our Church, creative and faithful people, who can come up with better ways to care for God's people than by locking the doors. Otherwise, we run the risk of coming across like the chief priests and Pharisees described by Matthew. Are we trying to hide our Lord by securing the churches, fixing a seal, and setting the guard?

Bible Study Reflection #30: Wheat and Weeds

Once again, it’s back to the Gospel. This time we’ll take a look at one of Jesus’ Kingdom of Heaven parables in the Gospel According to Matthew. Our reading actually includes several of these parables, but today we’ll focus only on the first, the parable of the wheat and the weeds. I realize Jesus doesn’t specify that the farmer in the parable is growing wheat, but I’ve always like the alliteration of the words, “wheat and weeds,” so I’ll continue to make that assumption.

Before we begin our reflection, then, please open your Bible, turn to Chapter 13 of Matthew and read Matthew 13:24-43. I’ve included the passage on Page 5.

_______________________

How many sinners do we have out there? Okay, you all know the answer to that one: we’re all sinners, even those who think they’re saints. In fact, this parable of the wheat and the weeds was aimed particularly at sinners who sometimes forget they’re sinners.

Notice that our Gospel passage ends with Jesus saying, “Whoever has ears ought to hear” [Mt 13:43]. I suppose He’s telling us: “Listen up! What I have to say about all this sinfulness and saintliness is pretty important stuff.” So, let’s take a closer look at this parable and at Jesus’ explanation of it. Perhaps, then, we can correct our own inflated opinions of ourselves.

First of all, let’s you and I take on the role of one of the slaves. Now it’s not easy being a slave, always having to do what you’re told, even when you don’t understand or don’t agree with the master and his orders. But, in this instance, even though we’re slaves, we’re fortunate to have a good and caring master, one who even allows us to question what we don’t understand.

Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where have the weeds come from? [Mt 13:27]

The master explains that his enemy has tried to sabotage His work by planting weeds, by seeding the field with that which will damage the wheat and lessen the harvest.

Jesus, opening up the parable for the disciples, tells them:

He who sows good seed is the Son of Man, the field is the world, the good seed the children of the kingdom. The weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sows them is the devil [Mt 13:37-38].

…a pretty straightforward explanation, isn’t it? And the slaves, presumably, are the disciples (that’s us), those who must do the work of the master. Being good disciples, they want to do what they believe is best. Unlike those evil sinners, the saintly sinners want to make things right. They want to go out into the field right away and just rip out all those weeds, along with anything else that might get in the way.

So, there we are, you and I, God’s saintly, sinful slaves, telling Him to turn us loose and we’ll solve all His problems. Let us do it now! We’re the good guys, the good and decent people; we’re the righteous ones; we’re the ones with ears to hear.

Just look at all those weeds! What did Jesus call them? “Children of the evil one” [Mt 13:38]. You see them in the newspapers, on the web, and on TV. Why, it’s downright embarrassing. Their conduct, their ethics, their morality could hardly be any lower. And they’re out there committing all these shameful sins right there in front of God and everyone, setting a horrible example to the rest of us. There’s certainly no room for people like that in His Church. And look at the world. The weeds are taking over. Evil’s on a rampage. This can’t be the kind of world God wants. We have to do something!

It's tempting, isn't it, sometimes dangerously and tragically so, to desire a perfect world, to think that, if humanity got its act together, we could eradicate evil and create a world without imperfections. At least that’s what the politicians and the ideologues tell us. How ironic that our very imperfections cause us to think this way. And so, we end up turning the imperfect into the evil, while we hide all the real evils behind curtains of political and ideological correctness.

Abort the unwanted, purge the inconvenient, eliminate the undesirables, execute the criminals, cleanse the world of everything and everyone that’s imperfect. These, along with so many others, are the world’s solutions; they’re certainly not God’s.

God’s will is so very different, His ways so far from ours. How did He put it to Isaiah:

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways – oracle of the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, my thoughts higher than your thoughts [Is 55:8-9].

In His divine wisdom He orders us to refrain from judging and purging, for He has a different plan for the salvation of humanity. He tells us to do something that from a human perspective seems downright foolish, but He insists.

“No weeding,” He orders, “not now. I’ll wait instead for the harvest, and then I’ll do the separating, not you. I will decide between wheat and weeds.”

“But there are so many weeds in the world today,” we complain, “so much evil, right here, right now — can’t we do something; can’t we do anything?”

And God says, “Yes, first of all, you can trust in Me. And you can do something else, but not the something you’d like to do, not the human something. I will judge,” He tells us, “because only I can see into the heart of each man and woman, only I can ensure a perfect yield from the harvest.”

We’ve been given a different job. “Go make disciples of all nations” [Mt 28:19], He commanded his disciples, which includes you and me. Until the harvest time we are to preach the gospel of repentance to the world…and to ourselves. And that, brothers and sisters, is hard for us to take. Why can’t we do some of that judging, that purging? Aren’t we the good ones, the holy ones?

Okay, maybe we’re not always that good or that holy. Maybe we don’t spend very much time immersed in God’s Word or deepening our prayer life – assuming we even have a prayer life. But we’re busy people and t’s hard work trying to get ahead in this world.

Maybe our faith isn’t always as alive and vibrant as it should be. Maybe our children and grandchildren, our neighbors and friends, haven’t always seen our faith witnessed in the way we live. Maybe we don’t spend much time and effort feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, welcoming the stranger, caring for and visiting the ill and the imprisoned. After all, I’ve got problems too. And I take responsibility for them; why can’t they?

Maybe we occasionally ignore those Church teachings we don’t agree with, those teachings on faith and morals and justice that are downright inconvenient. Oh, but we do attend Mass every week…well, most weeks anyway. That must count for something.

Yes, Jesus’ teaching can be a real stumbling block for us, can’t it? Much better and far more comforting to think there are just two kinds of people in the world: the real sinners – you know, the ones you see on the covers of the supermarket tabloids – and the rest of us, those of us who hardly sin at all, or whose sins are small. The bad and the pretty good. The outsiders – that’s them – and the insiders – that’s us. Those who have ears to hear and those who just refuse to listen. Those who will make it to heaven and those who won’t.

Yes, it’s easy to begin to think that way. And it’s a mistake that’s been around a long time. Back in the 4th Century there was a widespread heresy called Donatism that claimed the good seed in this parable referred to the members of the Church, and so by definition there could be no weeds, no sinners, in the Church. They believed the Church could be composed only of good people; the rest of the world was simply evil. They were a bit like the Pharisees of Jesus’ time.

It took a St. Augustine to correct them, explaining that neither humanity nor the Church can be divided into children of light and children of darkness. We still hear echoes of this ancient heresy among some Christian groups who preach a kind of exclusivity: “Are you saved? If you’re one of us, you’re OK...otherwise…well, sorry but you’re condemned.”

St. Augustine, of course, was right. We all have both light and darkness within us – the wheat and the weeds growing together. The Church, you see, is really a kind of hospital, where we can be spiritually healed and made ready for our eternal journey. It’s a place where sinners grow and change by God's grace. That growth in grace may be agonizingly slow, like grain hidden in the soil, waiting to be watered, waiting to be nourished. But in its slowness, it also imitates the patience of God. For Jesus teaches that there’s still time, there’s always time, up until the very last moment of our lives.

Of course, for those of us in the winter of our lives, it makes sense to heed the words of St. Paul:

I tell you, brothers, the time is running out…for the world in its present form is passing away” [1 Cor 7:29,31].

Just as our lives, too, are passing away.

I recall reading an article about a young gang member from a broken family — no role models, no education, no opportunities, no hope, no future. One fateful day, in a fit of uncontrolled rage, he fatally stabbed his social worker, the one person who was trying to help him. Convicted of murder, he was sent to prison for life. Now middle-aged, he’s repented, sought forgiveness from his victim’s family, finished college, and was baptized and confirmed. He’ll remain in prison because that’s where man’s justice will keep him. But today he’s nothing like the violent young man he once was and can no longer be counted among the weeds. Who would have predicted this outcome? Nobody but Jesus Himself.

As Paul reminds us, the Lord turns all things to good for those who love Him [Rom 8:28]. And so, brothers and sisters, there’s good news for us in this Gospel — really good news. We won’t be struck by lightning the moment we sin, for God responds patiently and lovingly.

How blessed we are that we can look back, recognize our past sinfulness, and be forgiven in the sacrament of Reconciliation.

How blessed we are that God is patient, that He gives us time to change, time to make amends.

If we’re truly honest with ourselves and with God, most of us will admit that we were once weeds, and some of us that we’re still weeds. We try to hide our secrets, our sinfulness, because we’re ashamed of what we’ve done. We struggle to trust others because we can hardly trust ourselves. We play games with the truth, and too easily separate our words from our actions. And there are days when we slip back into our weed-like behavior. The result, quite simply, is that it’s hard to tell the wheat from the weeds.

If you look carefully, you can find the weeds in yourself and in others. And so, we remain sinners living among sinners. But the time will come when the sorting of the weeds from the wheat will be absolute, decisive, and final. Make no mistake about it: We will all be judged. But that judgment belongs to the master alone, not to the servants. God is in charge, not us, and His judgment is nothing at all like ours -- something for which we should be especially grateful. God is both just and merciful. He’s eager to forgive and to provide us with the grace we need to overcome our sinfulness and do His will in the world. We need only ask. Yes, He’s willing to wait for our repentance, to wait until the very last moment, for His patience is almost inexhaustible. And we can thank God for that.

Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever.

Bible Study Reflection #28: Our Reckless, Wonderful God

I’d like to begin today’s reflection with a reading from the Gospel According to Matthew. It’s a most interesting passage in which Jesus related the Parable of the Sower and then explained its meaning to the apostles. It’s a passage that usually leads to a number of questions. As you read it, keep track of the questions that come to mind, open your heart and mind to the Holy Spirit, and pray the He will lead you to the answers you seek.

Please take a moment now to open your Bible to Chapter 13 of the Gospel According to Matthew and read verses 1 to 23 [Mt 13:1-23]. 

____________________________

One evening early last year, I came across a website that asked the question: “Is your church growing?” Apparently, this website sells software and consulting services to Christian churches that either aren’t growing or aren’t growing quickly enough. It promises to help double the numbers of a congregation so the pews will be overflowing with enthusiastic worshipers. And the financial support will grow too, with the possibility of large donations.

Wow! Who could resist this offer at a time when Church attendance in the U.S. and Europe was approaching record lows? Europe, of course, is in far worse shape spiritually than the U.S., but the U.S. isn’t far behind. Many dioceses are closing parishes and have had to face crippling financial burdens (in part because of the abuse scandal). Who wouldn’t welcome a few tips on how to make a parish grow?

From this I was reminded of the Gospel passage I’ve asked you to read. It seems as if the disciples wanted Jesus to speak more clearly, not to hide His teachings in parables the people, and even the disciples, couldn’t decipher. Surely, He’d attract more followers if He’d just speak plainly. I can hear the consultants now:

“Poor Jesus! He just didn’t understand the dynamics of church growth. First of all, He announced the presence of God's kingdom in a world dominated by the rule of Satan. And instead of making a little room for compromise, He just plowed ahead and declared war on Satan. Now, how ecumenical is that?”

Yes, I’m afraid our consultants would be aghast. Doesn’t Jesus know that his stubborn orthodoxy just makes things worse, polarizing people, making them more defensive?

Look what happened. Already the religious leaders of the time were accusing Jesus of being in league with Satan. And those teachings of His, those hard teachings that caused many of His disciples to leave Him: “Eat my Body…drink my Blood” [Jn 6:55-57] – hardly words to fill the parking lot. Even the people of Nazareth, His hometown, turned against him. Things simply weren’t going all that well for Jesus. If only He’d had access to the expert help available to us today.

In our passage Jesus gave His disciples advice on how to spread the Word. He used a parable, relating a story of a farmer who isn’t especially careful about the sowing of seed. He just throws it all over the place. Although some actually falls on fertile soil, most of the seed appears to be wasted. It reminds me of a cartoon I once saw. One farmer asks another 'What are you growing this year?' The other farmer simply said, 'Poorer'. And that’s Jesus, wasting all that seed.

Jesus, though, went on to explain things and we discover that His Way, God’s Way, differs greatly from the ways of man, the ways of the experts. After provoking the disciples with His parable of the reckless farmer, Jesus went on to explain His own proclamation of the Good News. Since He began His public ministry, He’d been generous in all things: teaching, healing, and reaching out to all who came to Him, and even many who didn’t. Through it all He displayed a special love for public sinners and society’s misfits, not the sort who give large contributions.

Through these actions, as much as His preaching, Jesus taught. Thousands came to Him and, listening to His teaching, realized how much He demanded of them. Their righteousness must exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees, the religious professionals of the day. He called for more than simple obedience to the law. He called for a change of heart and mind in his hearers. He called on them to change their lives!

But then He repeated the words of Isaiah, proclaiming the prophecy is fulfilled:

You shall indeed hear but not understand,

you shall indeed look but never see [Is 6:14].

Sure enough, many resisted because their hearts were as hard as the rocky ground on which so much of that seed fell, or as tangled and suffocating as the briars that choked God’s Word before it could grow. Quite simply, in their sinfulness and self-absorption they neither heard nor understood the Good News.

They refused to accept God’s gift of faith and make a free response to Jesus' call. Only an act of faith can open their hearts and free them from Satan's grasp. Without it, they are no different from so many of today’s Christians who seem to welcome the Gospel but then crumble once they are tested. Only this understanding, this act of faith, can free us from the allure of the gross materialism of our decaying society.

Jesus knew His people's history, so He wasn’t surprised by their lack of faith. The prophets had encountered the same lack of faith, the same hardening of hearts, when they spread the seed of God’s word. And, yet, despite all these obstacles, all the resistance to the life-giving Gospel, Jesus reminds us that God is not defeated.

You see, like the farmer, God is a bit of a gambler. When someone bets everything they have, with no guaranteed outcome, they’re gambling big time. It’s an old story. The higher the stakes, the harder they work. Not just to control the weeds, but to control every single variable they can.

They strive to control the risks. Just consider the extreme and improbable risks that God takes by planting his Word in a world like ours. What are the chances the Word of God will take root and yield a good harvest?

Will God’s Word change the heart of a terrorist? Will it bring the spirit of forgiveness to the family of a murder victim? Can the truth of God’s gift of life soften the heart of a politician? Will God’s love for the poor, the oppressed, the forgotten lead the wealthy to the beatitude of spiritual poverty? Will the hardships, the struggles of employees and customers play on the mind of a CFO as he adjusts his spreadsheet parameters? Will the scientist realize she’s bowing in reverence to the Creator of the universe when she leans over the microscope to study the wonders of cellular regeneration?

What are the chances? You and I might think the chances of the Word of God germinating in our fallen world are mighty slim. But, as it turns out, God is a gambler of the most reckless sort. Just listen to the words of the prophet Isaiah, poetic words through which he reveals God’s plan:

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

      so are my ways higher than your ways,

      my thoughts higher than your thoughts.

Yet, just as from the heavens

      the rain and snow come down

and do not return there

      till they have watered the earth,

      making it fertile and fruitful,

giving seed to the one who sows

      and bread to the one who eats,

so shall my word be

      that goes forth from my mouth;

any word shall not return to me void,

      but shall do my will,

      achieving the end for which I sent it [Is 55:9-11].

The Word of God, then, runs swiftly upon the earth and doesn’t return to the heavens void. What a marvelous prophecy Isaiah has given us. For Jesus Himself is the Word of God and His time on earth was certainly brief, indeed, a swift run. But He did not return to heaven empty, for He had established His Church, “giving seed to the one who sows and bread to the one who eats.” And His Church “shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.”

The Church Jesus founded gave us the canon of Sacred Scripture and its magisterial teachings on everything from prayer to living the Christian life. Whenever you and I open the Bible, or fall to our knees in prayer, or gather together at Mass, God scatters more seed and takes more risks. Day after day, in the face of incredible odds, God hurls out the seed of the Word like a gambler throwing dice.

It appears reckless, but faith takes root. Isaiah was confident in his conviction; and Jesus claimed it was a sure thing: God’s Word yields its harvest. In arid hearts that thirst for God, the understanding, the seeds of faith, all take root. His kingdom will come, Jesus promises us, a coming conditioned by both refusal and the generous response of open hearts.

What about your heart? Is it open, like “the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields a hundred or sixty or thirty fold”? [Mt 13:8] What a return on investment! How’s that for a reckless, over-the-top response? Is such a response to His Word really possible? Well, as Jesus reminds us: “…for God all things are possible”[Mt 19:26].

And especially today, in the face of so much disappointment, of low morale among many Christians, and of the hatred that arises out of a culture of death, it’s particularly important to accept that abundant harvests will come.

Just as the Church grew from Jesus’ own faith – His willingness to face the desolation of the cross, to die as the grain of wheat dies – and the glory of the Resurrection. Just as the Holy Spirit worked in the generous hearts of apostles and, despite the persecutions they endured, spread the faith from Jerusalem to Rome and beyond.

This was all God’s doing. His Kingdom doesn’t grow bigger and better by following some human organizational model. No consultant can bring about the Kingdom. No, it will come in its fullness only as a work of God – aided by the faith of the members of the Body of Christ.

This faith leads us to hope, and to pray and work for a generous response to Jesus' call to discipleship. Faith also tells us that growth comes not just when the church is prosperous and triumphant, but more often when she is weak and persecuted. For it is then, in our weakness, that we allow the power of God's Word to enter our hearts. It is then that we see His power and come to believe that He alone can produce the rich harvest.

Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever.