Homily: 24th Sunday in Ordinary Timne - Year B

Readings: Is 50:5-9a; Ps 116; Ja 2:14-18; Mk 8-27-35

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“Who do you say that I am?”

An interesting question Jesus asks the apostles. Only Peter answers, but he gets it right, doesn’t he? With a little nudging from the Holy Spirit.

“You are the Christ” [Mk 8:29], he responds. That’s right --  You’re the Messiah, the one who will set us free. Of course, Peter’s understanding is very different from that of Jesus. This becomes apparent just a few moments later when Peter gets it wrong. He gets it so wrong that Jesus calls him a Satan. I guess that’s about as wrong as you can get.

Poor Peter. He’s beginning to understand who Jesus is. We see this in Matthew’s Gospel where this same scene is described. Here Peter answers Jesus by saying,

“You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” [Mt 16:16]

For Peter, Jesus is the promised one, the king who will reign over Israel and bring freedom to His people. But Peter’s idea of a king and freedom are human concepts. And there’s the irony. Peter’s beginning to understand, but for all the wrong reasons. In truth, he hasn’t a clue…at least not yet.

Peter and the others never dreamed that the words of Isaiah, words we just heard proclaimed here, could apply to the Messiah, and still less to Jesus:

"I made no resistance, neither did I turn away. I offered my back to those who struck me, my cheeks to those who tore at my beard; I did not cover my face against insult and spittle." [Is 50:6]

Isaiah’s Suffering Servant isn’t the Messiah they envisioned, nor is He the God they worship. It was a slow, painful process for the disciples to change their thinking, something that wasn’t fully realized until after the resurrection, until Pentecost.

And brothers and sisters, we, too, must sometimes go through the same process. That’s one of the more interesting aspects of this exchange between Jesus and Peter: It’s still going on today. Jesus still asks us who do we say He is…and just like Peter, far too many, don’t have a clue.

Many so-called Christians stopped believing in Jesus’ divinity long ago. I mean, really, how can any educated person today believe that this itinerant 1^st century Jewish preacher was actually God? A powerful teacher, perhaps…a man of strong character…a wise philosopher…all of these things…but the Son of God?

Others will say, okay, maybe he was a prophet…Or a great moral leader…Or a revolutionary hero…Or simply a good man who, like many other good men, died before his time…Or perhaps he was simply a fool…Yes, indeed, these answers, and others like them, are all out there.

But for most of us, for us Christians, at least when things are going well in our lives, Jesus’ question is easy to answer: He’s the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

When you saw your newborn child or grandchild for the first time…Thank you, Lord; Oh, yes, Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

When a loved one is cured of that life-threatening disease…Thank you, Lord…Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

When an adult child returns to the Faith. Thank you, Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

Oh, we know the answer when things are going well, in the midst of success and happiness and the good things of life.

But then, there are other days, aren’t there? Days when that question nags and challenges — even taunts us for a response: But who do you say that I am? When others ask about Jesus, what do you say to them?

“I don’t know!”, we want to cry. “I wish I knew. I wish I could say for certain…”

So often, that question comes to us, not from one of the good places, with nice landscaping, and good food, and valet parking, and room service. 

Sometimes it comes from the deserts of our lives, from the dark woods choked with thorns and brambles. Then it just doesn’t sound very pleasant, does it? No, it sounds sharp, so sharp it can wound. Yes, God’s question, “Who do you say that I am?” comes just as often from places of uncertainty, from places of pain and conflict.

And that’s when we want to scream an answer: “I thought I knew who you were, but not today, not after this…” Not when we’re lost in those wilderness places, places where the border between hope and folly, between life and death, between trust and despair – places where those distinctions are so blurred the words become almost meaningless to us.

A few weeks ago, I conducted a committal service for a family at the National Cemetery in Bushnell. The husband and father, seemingly in wonderful health, had died suddenly of a heart attack while he and his wife were visiting their children. One moment he was laughing and playing with the grandchildren and the next moment he was gone. They were devastated – all of them – and each struggled to answer Jesus’ question: But who do you say that I am? And do you know something? So did I.

For it was one of those days when the answer we want to give, the witness we want to be, the words we long to say – the healing words, the comforting words, the reconciling words, the words of faith and hope – stick deep in the back of our throats, or remain stubbornly silent, too elusive, too fragile, too uncertain to be spoken aloud.

And yet that question, “Who do you say that I am?” continues to echo down through the ages from the hills of Galilee. It lingers in the air of a refugee camp in the Sudan. It shouts from a hospital bed in Leesburg, or a half-way house in the Bronx or nursing home in Palm Beach. It calls to us from a tunnel in Gaza, from an empty kibbutz in Israel, from a burned-out village in Nigeria, or a soup kitchen in Wildwood. From a neighborhood across the globe to one just around the corner and down the street.

Who do you say that I am?

The question arises when good men and women die, when families grieve, when hearts are broken when trust is betrayed. When it’s not a beautiful day in The Villages, who do we say Christ is? Is He still the Messiah, the son of the living God?

After Jesus asked that question, he turned to the crowd and told them:

“Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.  For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it” [Mk 8:34-35].

For that grieving family standing at the graveside, for the woman just diagnosed with cancer, for the man who unexpectedly loses his job…these words of Jesus are hard words to hear. For so many, isn’t life itself burden enough?

But in truth, only the cross can bear the full weight of human suffering. Only the cross contains the promise that death is not the final word. Only the cross offers real hope in the midst of the world’s despair. Just watch the news, folks, and see the chaos and hatred. 

Do we accept and believe this truth even when our world is crumbling and the path ahead seems so uncertain? Not if our lives reflect a double standard. How can we be Christians and yet have the same values as the rest of society? We can’t.

Sisters and brothers, we are surrounded by a Godless culture, a culture of death. As Jesus prayed to the Father:

I gave them your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world [Jn 17:14].

Do we belong to the world, or do we belong to Jesus Christ?

How can we be Christians if our primary concerns are with material plenty, professional success, great careers for our children and grandchildren? Oh, it’s a full-time job just "saving" our lives, just locking in our security, isn’t it?.

But then Jesus tells us that to be really free, we must let it go, stop clinging. He tells us to give and not to grab, to share and not to hoard, to choose life at every stage, from conception until natural death. To see others as brothers and sisters, not as rivals and competitors. He tells us to love others, to reach out to them, not to guard against them.

Who do you say that I am?  he asks us, every day.

In the end, though, the question doesn’t call for an answer in words; no, it demands a decision; it demands action. Words are easy, aren’t they? Recall what James told us in our 2^nd reading.

"Go in peace…Oh, and if you have no bread, well, don’t worry, God will provide.”

"Sorry, I can't help you now, I’m on my way to Mass."

"Oh, yes, I can imagine how difficult it must be to be homeless. I'll pray for you."

No, Jesus doesn’t want just words; He wants a decision, a decision to pick up our cross, to help others carry theirs, and to follow Him together…for He’s the only one who knows the way…the way home.

God love you.

“Gird Your Loins!”

Back when I was just a kid, our family Bible was a Douay-Rheims translation filled with prints of those wonderful biblical engravings by Gustave Doré. (You can view them all here.) As a young child I would sit on the living room couch turning the pages of that Bible and examining Doré‘s remarkably detailed scenes. My approach to Bible Study at that age was rather random, a hit-or-miss approach in which I would look at one of the pictures, then read the opening passages of the book I thought was associated with the picture. Often enough I didn’t understand much of what I’d read and found myself wondering just what those words were telling me. Many of the words were not yet part of my vocabulary, so I’d occasionally ask my mom what they meant. Once, while reading the opening verses of Jeremiah, I came across the following in which God commanded the young prophet:

“Thou therefore gird up thy loins, and arise, and speak to them all that I command thee…” [Jer 1:17]

So I asked Mom, “What does gird up thy loins mean?” As I recall, she didn’t provide a full explanation, but simply replied, “It means to prepare for battle.” At the time that was enough for the nine-year-old me. I’m guessing it was a few more years before I even knew what loins were. Truthfully, I’m still a bit foggy about it today since loins rarely, if ever, find their way into everyday conversation. 

Anyway, the phrase was not restricted to the Old Testament. St. Paul, for example, used it when writing to the Ephesians:

“Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil…Stand therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the equipment of the gospel of peace; above all taking the shield of faith, with which you can quench all the flaming darts of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” [Eph 6:11,’14-17].

Here the Apostle, using a variety of military images, instructed those early Christians to prepare themselves for spiritual battle, armed defensively with truth, righteousness, the gospel of peace, and faith. St. Peter, addressing new Christians who were undergoing persecution and hardship, used similar language to encourage them in their faith:

“Therefore gird up your minds, be sober, set your hope upon the grace that is coming to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, be holy yourselves in all your conduct; since it is written, ‘You shall be holy, for I am holy’” [1 Pet 1:13-16].

Peter used only part of the “girding” metaphor, telling these Christians, “gird up your minds” and calling them to the holiness God wills for them. 

Until the other day, the last time I heard anyone use the phrase publicly was on April 17, 1970, when the Commanding Officer of our Navy helicopter squadron rose up from his ready room chair and gave some final instructions to the crews who would recover the Apollo 13 astronauts. Chuck Smiley looked out at us all and with a smile on his face said, “You’re all professionals, so I know you’ll do an outstanding job today, so let’s just gird our loins and do what the nation expects of us.” And we did. 

Why my current interest in all this loin-girding?  Because of something I read a few days ago in a news article. As you might have heard, the Los Angeles Dodgers invited a radical anti-Catholic hate group to the team’s June 16 Pride Night game. During the game the group will receive the team’s “Community Heroes” award. The group, calling themselves “The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence,” openly mocks the Catholic faith. The Dodgers invited this extremist trans group, but responding to strong criticism and complaints from Christian groups, the team dis-invited them. But then the leftist hate attacks began so the team re-invited them. 

Drag Trans "Sister of Perpetual Indulgence"

While the Archdiocese of Los Angeles issued a statement condemning this hateful decision by the Dodgers, perhaps the best response came from one of the more courageous of American bishops, Salvatore Cordileone, Archbishop of San Francisco. Archbishop Cordileone accused the Dodgers organization of worshiping “alternative gods” and then added:

“Our Catholic sisters devote themselves to serving others selflessly. Decent people would not mock and blaspheme them. So we now know what gods the Dodger admin worships. Open desecration and anti-Catholicism is not disqualifying. Disappointing, but not surprising. Gird your loins.”

Archbishop Cordileone

Don’t you just love it? “Gird your loins,” the archbishop tells his flock. Like St. Paul and St. Peter, he calls us to prepare for spiritual warfare; indeed, we are already in the midst of the war’s ongoing battles. Satan is pulling out all the stops in what will ultimately be his failing effort to destroy God’s Church. I expect this warfare to go on for quite some time, so it would be best to equip ourselves with that same defensive armor recommended by St. Paul: truth, righteousness, the gospel of peace, and faith. And to these let’s add our most effective offensive weapon: prayer.

Oh, and for all you Dodger's fans out there, I'd suggest switching allegiance to another team or just doing what I decided to do and just avoid Major League Baseball altogether. Or as we New Yorkers say: "Fugeddaboutit!"

Evangelization and Truth

In my last post I suggested that perhaps it's time for our bishops to act and defend the Church's teachings, especially when these teachings are dismissed by nominally Catholic politicians as irrelevant or just plain wrong. I see this as part of the bishops' responsibility for evangelization. In today's post, I hope to extend that seme responsibility to all of the faithful, to you and to me, as we make our journey through the small slice of time and space in which God has placed us. In our parish Bible Study, we're currently studying the opening chapters of the Acts of the Apostles, so I thought the example of St. Peter would provide us with a good starting point.

In chapter four of the Acts of the Apostles, we find a Spirit-filled Peter standing before the local authorities, with the young apostle, John, at his side. The two apostles faced a crowd of local notables: the high priest, Caiaphas; his predecessor and father-in-law, Annas; and a collection of Jerusalem's most distinguished "leaders, elders, and scribes." This was the Sanhedrin, a kind of governing council and supreme court. Largely aristocratic, the Sanhedrin's members included representative of the most influential noble and priestly families. 

Although the Sanhedrin possessed significant power, they remained subservient to the Roman authorities. Most of these men were probably Sadducees, although the Sanhedrin also included Pharisees and others among its members. The Sadducees were responsible for maintaining the Temple and many were counted among the priests who performed the Temple sacrifices. Theologically, though, they differed greatly from most contemporary Jews, especially the Pharisees. Sadducees did not accept the immortality of the soul, rejected the idea of an afterlife and the resurrection of the dead, and did not believe in the existence of angelic or spiritual beings. As you might expect, they tried to make this life as comfortable as possible. They would have agreed with the old Schlitz beer commercials of the 1970s: "You only go around once...grab all the gusto." We can understand, then, why they did not appreciate anyone who threatened to upset the status quo, especially their relationship with the Romans.

Why were Peter and John standing there facing these men? The drama began the previous day when Peter and John passed through the Temple gate and encountered a beggar, a man crippled from birth. Peter said to him:

“I have neither silver nor gold, but what I do have I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean, rise and walk” [Acts 3:6].

The man was instantly and completely healed. Peter had then gone on to proclaim the truth about Jesus Christ to the Jewish crowds gathered within the Temple precincts at Solomon's Portico. His preaching led to a remarkable result:

"...many of those who heard the word came to believe and the number of men grew to about five thousand" [Acts 4:4].

This, of course, was too much for the Jewish authorities who had the two apostles arrested. After a night in custody, Peter and John were brought before the Sanhedrin for questioning. They were asked a single question:

“By what power or by what name have you done this?” [Acts 4:7]

Inspired by the Spirit, Peter gave the perfect response, a brief but remarkable sermon:

“Leaders of the people and elders: If we are being examined today about a good deed done to a cripple, namely, by what means he was saved, then all of you and all the people of Israel should know that it was in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead; in his name this man stands before you healed.

He [Jesus] is ‘the stone rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone.’ There is no salvation through anyone else, nor is there any other name under heaven given to the human race by which we are to be saved” [Acts 4:8-12].

Here we have a true homiletic gem. Within it we find a statement that offers us one of Christianity's absolute truths. Reread Peter's last sentence in which he provides the perfect declaration of salvation that comes to the human race only through Jesus Christ.

In Peter's words we encounter the universality of the Christian message, a message we are called to proclaim to every human being. Just consider Jesus' final words to the disciples before His Ascension to the Father:

“All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age” [Mt 28:18-20].

This is a command by Jesus, a three-fold command: (1) make disciples of all nations; (2) baptize them; and (3) teach them. And it's followed by a promise: "I am with you always." If we are called to "make disciples of all nations," Christianity, then, is truly catholic. With these words, we realize God desires all to be saved through Jesus Christ [Acts 2:21; 1 Tim 2:3-4; 2 Pt 3:9] Although "for God all things are possible" [Mt 19:26], He instructs us to help bring this about through sacramental Baptism, supported by the continued presence of Christ's Holy Spirit in the teaching authority -- the Magisterium -- of the Church.

We are called to follow Peter's example and always proclaim the truth to those who do not believe. The problem, however, is that so many Christians, including many Catholics, seem either to reject this command of Jesus or simply fear to express the truth. Too many of us have grown a bit wobbly when it comes to evangelizing in truth. We either water down the Church's teaching or fall prey to a kind of syncretism in which all religions are considered okay. Once, while teaching a course on World Religions to a class of Catholic catechists and teachers, I was surprised when many thought there was no need to evangelize Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, or others who reject our Christian faith. As one high school teacher said, "As long as they follow their religion's teachings, I'm sure they'll be okay with God." Well, that may be true, but that's God's call, not ours. We're called to obey Him, to evangelize, to follow the example of the apostles. We must always remember: you and I cannot convert anyone; we simply plant seeds, or water and fertilize the seeds others have planted. God, and only God, brings all to fruition.

Like the apostles, we Christians have been commissioned to proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ to the world, the entire world. This doesn't mean we do it arrogantly or haughtily. Not at all. We are commanded to do all this with love, but to love without forsaking the truth. As Peter told the beggar: "...what I do have I give you." We must do the same, give whatever we have, however the Spirit inspires and equips us. We must also live the truth of Jesus Christ so others will recognize Jesus Christ in us, just as we see Jesus Christ in them. And in doing so, we must also be ready to stand for the truth even at the cost of our lives, these days an increasingly likely possibility.

Homily: Saturday, 3rd Week of Easter

Reading: Acts 9:31-42; Ps 116; Jn 6:60-69
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 "Do you also want to leave?" Simon Peter answered Him: "Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life" [Jn 6:67-68].

Yes, the Apostles stayed with Jesus, but on that day in Capernaum, after hearing these words, many of Jesus' disciples walked away, unable to accept this hard teaching on the Eucharist. And what a teaching it was...

"Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day" [Jn 6:53-54].

Jesus' words created a rift, one that today, 2,000 years later, hasn't narrowed. How sad for those who do not believe, who are unable to accept Jesus' teaching on His Real Presence. It's sad because they are unable to experience the power of the Eucharist in their lives. 

How did the fathers of the Second Vatican Council describe the Eucharist?

''...the source and summit of the Christian life" [Lumen Gentium, 11].

"The source and summit" -- that covers it all, doesn't it? Can anything be more powerful?

A deacon friend of mine, who's a chaplain at a Catholic hospital, told me about a time he was asked to give a hospital tour to a wealthy woman who had donated a substantial amount of money.

She wasn't a Catholic so when they entered the chapel, he explained the significance of the red sanctuary light and the presence of the Blessed Sacrament in the Tabernacle. She asked him if he really believed that Jesus Christ was present there under the appearance of bread.

Of course, he said, "Yes."

She just shook her head and said, "If I believed that, I'd never be able to tear myself away from this room."

Oh, yes, how we take for granted so many of the graces and blessings we receive daily from God.

It wasn't too long ago - the time of my grandparents - when it was customary for people to receive the Eucharist only on Sundays and feast days. It was St. Pius X who flung open the tabernacles of the world.

During the days of our patron, St. Vincent de Paul, there was a movement to do just the opposite: to permanently close all the tabernacles. The Jansenists of France had persuaded large numbers of people that few, if any, were worthy to receive the Eucharist. They believed, too, that Christ did not die for all, but for just a favored few.

Fortunately, St. Vincent succeeded in convincing  Rome of the dangers of this heretical doctrine. Vincent saw the value of frequent Holy Communion, even if the Church at the time did not encourage people to receive Christ's Body and Blood with the frequency it does today.

The challenge to us, who have the joy and privilege of receiving the Eucharist frequently, is to keep our souls in a sense of wonder that the Bread of Life we eat here today is the same as that given to the Apostles at the Last Supper.

How did Jesus put it?

"I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst" [Jn 6:35].

Jesus says this to each of us as we receive Him during Holy Communion. As Pope Benedict once wrote: 

"It is the Lord who receives us and assumes us into Himself."

In other words, Christ doesn't become conformed to us; we become conformed to Christ.

But there's more. Because Eucharist is a sacrament, we also receive the Holy Spirit, the soul of Christ. If we are in a state of grace, then, the Trinity dwells within. Everything's there for us. 

What a marvelous gift! And what wonders it can work in our lives! With the Author of Life within us, we have absolutely nothing to fear. Death has no power over us.

After Communion Fr. Cromwell likes to lead us in that beautiful prayer -- Anima Christi or The Soul  of Christ -- a prayer attributed to St. Ignatius Loyola, 

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.

Body of Christ, save me.

Blood of Christ, inebriate me.

Water from the side of Christ, wash me...

Yes, indeed, brothers and sisters, the Last Supper is ongoing, still sanctifying, still saving. But we must pray for open hearts, that the world will come to recognize Jesus in this wondrous gift of the Eucharist.

We should pray, too, for ourselves, that we use this gift well, and bring Christ's Eucharistic presence to others. 

Homily: Feast of St. Matthias - May 14

Readings:  Acts 1:15-17, 20-26; Psalm 113; Jn 15:9-17

Today we honor St. Matthias, apostle and martyr. We don't really know too much about Matthias, other than what we just heard from the first chapter of Acts, Matthias' one and only appearance in Scripture.

We know he was one of the 70 disciples of Jesus, and had been with Him from His baptism by John all the way to the Ascension. And we know that Peter, in the days following the Ascension, proposed to the assembled brethren that they choose one of their number to replace Judas, the betrayer of Jesus. Two disciples, Joseph, called Barsabas, and Matthias were selected; lots were drawn; and Matthias joined the ranks of the Apostles. And that's about all we know for certain about Matthias.

Tradition has it that he preached the Gospel for 30 years in Judea, in Cappadocia in Asia Minor, then in Egypt and Ethiopia. Reportedly he was martyred in 80 A.D. by being stoned to death in Colchis, which is in modern-day Georgia on the Black Sea. It would seem Matthias got around. And I remember being shown his relics by one of the resident priests of the basilica of St. Mary Major in Rome. They were reportedly brought to Rome by St. Helena back in the fourth century.

So, that's about it. With such a paucity of information one might think we have little to learn from St. Matthias. But that would be a mistake. His brief story really has a lot to teach us.

First of all we learn that, from the very beginning, Jesus' disciples considered the apostolic foundation of the Church to be essential. Jesus had chosen twelve, the number of the tribes of Israel; and if His Church, the New Israel, was to come from His disciples, a twelfth apostle was needed to succeed the unfaithful Judas.

The idea of apostolic succession, then, is introduced right from the start. Matthias is chosen and numbered among the apostles. They, in turn, hand on to him what they received directly from Jesus. This is a cause for rejoicing on our part, rejoicing that the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church today is the same Church that Jesus established. Our Bishops are the successors of the apostles, and Church is still guided by apostolic leadership under the Holy Spirit.

Apostolic Succession

Someone else we encounter is Peter, the apostle singled out by Jesus to lead the brethren. Yes, we see Peter, in all humility, taking on this role of leadership. He calls on Scripture for support. He then clearly defines the qualifications of the one they must choose. And once two candidates have been proposed, he calls the community to prayer in the Holy Spirit. Peter's role as Vicar of Christ is, therefore, solidified. He's shown to be the foundational rock on which the Church will be built and will grow through the ages. And it's a role that becomes increasingly evident as Luke continues to relate the history of the early, Apostolic Church.

Of course this incident might lead us to ask: why Matthias and not the other? Why not Joseph, the one called Barsabas? We don't know...and neither did the assembled disciples. For instead of choosing between the two, they let the Holy Spirit decide, and cast lots.

The Holy Spirit Descends on the Church 

If might seem odd to us that they chose an apostle by a roll of the dice. And yet, there's a kind of purity in it...a purity of faith. They prayed to the Spirit and then in a remarkable act of faith, they let the Spirit make the decision.

I'm sure it was humbling for both Matthias and Joseph: for Matthias since he would constantly be reminded that he was not chosen to be an apostle because of any merit on his part; and for Joseph because he was in effect chosen to serve the Lord in some other capacity. And yet, I'm sure that Joseph, as a devoted disciple, went on to live the same faithful, committed life that had caused the other disciples to consider him. He might not have been chosen, but he was certainly choose-able. One thing Matthias, Joseph, and all the disciples knew: but for the grace of God, they would have remained terrible sinners.

And, brothers and sisters, the same is true of us. Through His love for us, and in his infinite mercy, God has called each of us to faith. Like the apostles, we must always be humble and grateful; for we can claim no good thing to our own credit.  All that we are and all that we have that is good comes from God.

Today let's take a lesson from the apostles and turn always to the Holy Spirit in prayer. Only then can we come to rely on Him to guide us each step of our journey. But how much do we really rely on the Holy Spirit to lead and guide us?

And let's not forget what Jesus calls us to do, what we must do if we are to be one of His disciples. Quite simply, He calls us to love others just as He has loved us. He calls us His friends; and true friends have love for each other, a love so great that they will give their lives for each other. Do we allow ourselves the time to grow in friendship with Jesus?

I hope so, brothers and sisters, for we too have been chosen - just like Matthias and just like Joseph -- to fulfill God's commandment so that love of God will endure in our world.

Church and State, Legality and Morality

A few days ago I heard a TV News pundit complain about Pope Francis' comment that freedom of speech was not without its limitations. This talking head, who calls himself a libertarian, was aghast that Pope Francis would say such a thing and even went on to suggest that the Pope was, in effect, blaming the victims, rather than the perpetrators, of the recent terrorist attacks in Paris.

Of course the Pope was saying no such thing. He was merely echoing Church teaching that we are not "free" to do what is evil. Indeed the Church teaches that choosing evil is an abuse of freedom and that true freedom must serve that which is just and good. By choosing evil, a person rejects freedom and accepts the slavery of sin [CCC 1733]. The Pope is merely saying that there are moral limits to all freedom, including freedom of speech. The staff of Charlie Hebdo abused their freedom of speech by printing slurs against all religions, not just Islam. This, however, in no way mitigates the guilt of those terrorists who chose a far greater evil when they committed mass murder. The Pope was not excusing the terrorists; he was merely answering a question about the limits to freedom of speech. I think sometimes, when he speaks off-the-cuff, a poor choice of words can lead to misunderstandings, but since I'm just a deacon and he's the Pope I'll forgo any criticism beyond this one comment.

Getting back to our libertarian TV pundit, it would seem he and the Islamist terrorist have at least one thing in common: unlike the Pope, they both think and act at the extremes. The Islamist terrorist despises any thought of freedom of speech, and through acts of terror strives to intimidate all others, forcing them to think and say only that which conforms to his jihadist strain of Islam. To him freedom of speech is anathema. The libertarian plants himself at the opposite extreme and believes freedom of speech includes the license to say (and in most instances do) anything whatsoever. Interestingly, both view the issue from a legalistic perspective: one from the standpoint of a strict interpretation of sharia law and the other from an unrestrained interpretation of the First Amendment to our Constitution. 

The Pope, however, views freedom from a moral, rather than a legal, perspective. And that which is legal is not necessarily moral...and vice versa. Abortion, infanticide -- And what is late-term abortion other than infanticide? -- physician assisted suicide, same-sex marriage, and a whole range of other immoral behaviors are quite legal in many states and nations. But the fact that they are legal under man's law does not make them moral under God's law. And for us Christians, morality trumps legality.

The state, therefore, will often legalize and even encourage immoral behavior and punish moral behavior. When we turn to the New Testament we find these issues well defined. First of all, we are instructed to obey lawful authority, perhaps most clearly by St. Paul in Romans, chapter 13:

"Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore he who resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Would you have no fear of him who is in authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive his approval, for he is God's servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain; he is the servant of God to execute his wrath on the wrongdoer. Therefore one must be subject, not only to avoid God's wrath but also for the sake of conscience. For the same reason you also pay taxes, for the authorities are ministers of God, attending to this very thing. Pay all of them their dues, taxes to whom taxes are due, revenue to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, honor to whom honor is due" [Rom 13:1-6].

This is reaffirmed by St. Peter in his First Letter:

"Be subject for the Lord's sake to every human institution, whether it be to the emperor as supreme, or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to praise those who do right. For it is God's will that by doing right you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish men. Live as free men, yet without using your freedom as a pretext for evil; but live as servants of God. Honor all men. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor" [1 Pet 2:13-17].

Note, however, that Peter instructs us not to use our "freedom as a pretext for evil; but live as servants of God." And so our current Pope is in tune with our first Pope. Freedom has its limits. We must honor and obey lawful authority but only insofar as it does not command that which is evil.

It is Jesus Himself who articulates the principle most succinctly when he tells the Pharisees and Herodians to "Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's" [Mk 12:17]. Here Jesus is declaring that there are boundaries that define our obedience to human authority. When man trespasses on that which is God's -- e.g., when he permits the taking of innocent life through abortion or infanticide -- he must no longer be obeyed. Once again St. Peter comes to our aid to ensure we understand the ramifications of resisting the state when it demands obedience to that which is immoral:

"Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal which comes upon you to prove you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in so far as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. If you are reproached for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the spirit of glory and of God rests upon you. But let none of you suffer as a murderer, or a thief, or a wrongdoer, or a mischief-maker; yet if one suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but under that name let him glorify God" [1 Pet 4:12-16].

Meriam Ibrahim receives Pope Francis' blessing after her release from a Somali prison

Given how Christians are being persecuted throughout the world today, we should pay particular attention to these words of our first Pope who gave His life for the Faith. Just as we should listen to Pope Francis who has repeatedly stated that the ongoing persecution of Christians will serve to unite us in ways that other ecumenical efforts have not:

“Today the blood of Jesus, poured out by many Christian martyrs in various parts of the world, calls us and compels us towards the goal of unity. For persecutors, we Christians are all one!”

Pray for persecuted Christians.

Pope Francis Surprises

While I certainly didn't expect Cardinal Bergoglio to be elected Pope, I did, however, expect to be surprised. And for me, at least, his election was definitely a surprise, although a most pleasant one.

Pope Francis Smiling

There are some, however, who are not at all pleased with his election, and many media outlets were only too happy to parade the disaffected through their studios almost as soon as the Holy Father's name was announced. With the DVR recording EWTN, I channel surfed the other networks to see what the self-appointed experts had to say. One network, obviously displeased that the new Pope was not a Unitarian, introduced an ex-priest and a (former?) nun who also happened to be a practicing lesbian. As you might expect they were very unhappy that the College of Cardinals had elected a man who strongly supported the Church's consistent teaching on moral issues. On another network, one interviewee, while admitting that Pope Francis appeared to support the poor, went on to question the depth of that support because he had long ago rejected liberation theology. I was amazed the network had been able to find someone who still equated Marxism with helping the poor. And then there was our new Pope's fellow Jesuit who added with some suspicion: "I've never seen him smile."

I encountered much more of the same that first evening of Pope Francis' papacy. I suppose all this was to be expected since most of the secular media are hostile to the Catholic Church and its teachings. Their usual tactic is to shine the spotlight on Catholics who share this hostility. This, they believe, will allow them to brush aside any charges of anti-Catholic bias. Their selection of commentators, however, only confirms the bias they try to disguise.

What interests me most about the secular media is their belief that the Catholic Church will somehow toss aside 2,000 years of magisterial teaching simply to appease them and those who share their ideology. They believe this because they've been able to find some nominal Catholics who agree with them. I say "nominal" because a Catholic who openly rejects the magisterial teaching of the Church is really rejecting the Church as well. Indeed, once a person rejects one set of teachings, what's to keep him from rejecting all the rest whenever it becomes convenient to do so? Moreover, one who believes the Church can change its teaching on such issues as abortion or homosexual marriage simply does not understand the Church. It's not that the Church stubbornly refuses to change its teachings in the face of the prevailing zeitgeist; rather, the Church cannot change because these teachings are founded on divine law, not human law.

I expect this truth will eventually and grudgingly be accepted, and result in either schism or a massive apostasy. In this I tend to agree with Pope Benedict XVI who foresees a future Church that will be smaller, holier and persecuted.

Over the past few days, as I've thought about Pope Francis and what he will mean for the Church, I've come to believe that he will probably surprise us all again and again throughout his papacy. He is fully Catholic, fully the Apostle, the one sent by God to serve His people. He is a man of orthodox belief, who, like his predecessors, will be unwavering in his teaching. And by choosing the name "Francis" he has shown us that he is a man of the poor, a man who understands better than most what Catholic social teaching really means.

Peter and John at the Temple Gate

When I first saw Pope Francis standing on that balcony, I thought immediately of St. Peter on the day of the first Pentecost when he and St. John encountered the crippled man begging at the "Beautiful Gate" of the Temple:

When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked for alms. But Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” He paid attention to them, expecting to receive something from them. Peter said, “I have neither silver nor gold, but what I do have I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean, rise and walk.” Then Peter took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles grew strong. He leaped up, stood, and walked around, and went into the temple with them, walking and jumping and praising God. [Acts 3:3-8]

This was the image that came to mind when I first saw Pope Francis. He, too, was standing at a "Beautiful Gate," but today's temple gate looks out over St. Peter's Square and from there to the entire world; and the world was certainly watching. "Look at us," Peter said. And Pope Francis asked us to look at him and pray for him. This humble man bowed low to the people, to the Church he will serve, asking, begging for our prayers. Then he spoke to all of us, and blessed us all, knowing that like the crippled beggar outside the gate we, too, are broken and in need of healing, knowing that we are poor in both body and spirit. In his humility he reached out to us with the hand of the shepherd asking us to take hold so that, together, we can raise each other up, we can, through God's grace and in the name of Jesus Christ Crucified, make each other strong. Yes, together, we can enter the temple "walking and jumping and praising God."

This was what the Spirit showed me when I first saw Pope Francis. And on the next day the Pope reinforced this image in the first homily of his papacy as he spoke to the Cardinals who elected him, asking them "to walk, to build, to profess Jesus Christ Crucified."

Keep Pope Francis in your prayers, for he will need both strength and humility as he leads the Church. He will surprise the world, and the world will respond. Some will cheer him on and join in his work of walking and building and professing; too many will attack him; others will wonder what he's about; and perhaps the largest number will be forced to examine their own faith and how they live it.

Pax et bonum...

Homily: 22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time

Readings: Jer 20:7-9; Ps 63; Rom 12:1-2; Mt 16:21-27

One of the more interesting aspects of Holy Scripture is that the Bible is filled with encounters between God and man. I suppose that’s to be expected since the Bible is really the story of God’s involvement – perhaps immersion would be a better word – in the history of humanity. He is, after all, the very Author of humanity, the Author of all being, so it’s only fitting that our history would be a part of His history as well….His Story if you will.

It starts with the story of creation in the very first chapters of Genesis
…and continues with the selection of Abraham as the father of God’s chosen people
…with Moses as their liberator and law-giver
…with David and Solomon from whose kingship, whose human family, Our Lord will descend
…and with the prophets who over the course of hundreds of years strive to prepare God’s people for the coming of their Redeemer.

Moses and the Burning Bush

In all of these events, and through these people and countless more, God interacts with those He has created. And it is through these interactions that He not only gradually reveals His plan for humanity, a plan conceived in unimaginable love, but also reveals Himself. It’s a revelation that culminates with the Incarnation of the Son of God, with the arrival among us of the very creative Word of God in the person of Jesus Christ.

As the Letter to the Hebrews proclaims in its opening words: “In times past, God spoke in partial and various ways to our ancestors through the prophets; in these last days, he spoke to us through a son, whom he made heir of all things and through whom he created the universe…”

In the same way, John opens his Gospel saying: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

The Incarnation, then, the person of Jesus Christ, is the ultimate manifestation of God’s interaction with us.

But Jesus didn’t simply appear. He didn’t just show up and say, “Okay, people, I’m God, get down on your knees and worship me.”  Now, that might have suited the pagans fine. They feared their gods, the gods they had created in their own minds, gods that reflected the capriciousness of the natural word, gods that demanded appeasement.

But this wasn’t the kind of interaction the one true God had planned, for which He had prepared the world. He wanted and still wants a different sort of interaction with us. He provides the opportunity for very personal encounters with each one of us, with every one of the billions of men and women He has brought into being over the centuries.

Did you know, in the Bible, God tells us not to fear well over 100 times? Yes, the one true God, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of Peter and Paul, the God of you and me, offers us a personal encounter with Him based not on fear, but on something else. It’s an encounter based on love – a love that will lead the Creator of all being to humble Himself in a way incomprehensible to the human spirit.

It is, you see, a divine humility, or as St. Paul instructed the Philippians: “…he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness… he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.”

It’s this unique and wondrous interaction with humanity – His living among us as one of us – that manifests His love for us. But it’s what He did in that life – His teaching, His healing, His forgiving, His loving, His suffering, His redemptive death, and His Resurrection, that sign and gift of hope to humanity – it’s all this that shows us the remarkable depth and breadth of that love.

And to tell the story of that interaction, we have been given the Gospels…and what a gift they are. They present us with one encounter after another, encounters between the Son of God and the men and women who cross His path: encounters with those who loved Him and those who despised Him, with those who accepted Him and those who rejected Him, with those who sought Him out and those who fled from Him.

In today’s Gospel passage from Matthew we observe one such encounter, one of a string of encounters between Jesus and Peter, encounters that form Peter into the saint he ultimately becomes. Peter has just proclaimed Jesus’ true identity: “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.”

You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do

Yes, although Peter recognizes Jesus as the Redeemer, he has yet to grasp how that redemption will be fulfilled. And in this passage, when Peter hears Jesus announce, for the first time, His passion, death and resurrection, he cannot accept the divine plan.

“God forbid!” Peter exclaims, rebuking his Lord whom he has just proclaimed as Son of God. He rejects God’s plan – “This shall not happen to you” – because he doesn’t understand it. It’s as if Peter is saying, “I’m not going to let this happen!”  What arrogance!

Peter had just been told: "...you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”

Imagine being told that by the Son of God! Perhaps it all went to his head; perhaps he didn’t hear the future tense of this prophecy by Jesus. “You aren’t in charge yet, pal.”

Yes, Peter will lead Christ’s Church, but not yet, not until he is ready, not until he has been formed by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. And he’s certainly not ready now. His disbelief leads to arrogance, causing Peter to place his will above that of the Redeemer, his plan before the plan of the Father. Peter hears only the suffering and death in Christ’s words, something totally contrary to the plan of redemption he has in mind. And the resurrection? At this point it means nothing to him.

How often do you and I reject what God wants for us? Instead of listening prayerfully to discern God’s will, we demand that God fulfill our will. We’re all a bit like this still unformed Peter, aren’t we? Sure that we can run our little corner of God’s universe better than He.

And yet this encounter between Jesus and Peter only proves how much greater is God’s eternal wisdom than any human wisdom we can muster. God takes this man, Peter, this fisherman full of bluster and pride – a most unqualified leader – and forms him into one who will take on the world’s most challenging task, the leadership of Jesus’ nascent Church.

Yes, Jesus is always teaching, and so much of His teaching is aimed at Peter whose responsibilities will be great indeed. In this encounter he teaches Peter that love brings suffering – that God’s love for humanity is so great that Jesus must go to Jerusalem, allow sinners to lay their violent hands on Him, and put Him to death. It is only then that these same sinners may come to recognize and accept the gift of life, eternal life.

If you want to be a disciple, Jesus tells Peter and us, you must follow me to the Cross. You must set aside your willfulness and obey a will far greater than your own.

And then Jesus offers the great paradox: “…whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

To “save” one’s life is to live only for oneself, to believe that one’s physical survival and comfort are the only ends worth pursuing. This, Jesus tells His disciples, leads only to death, an eternal death…and so saving ultimately means losing.

But when we lose our lives, when we abandon our lives into God’s hands, allowing His love, His transforming grace, to carry us into His divine life, then, and only then, will we find the eternal life God has planned for us.

Jesus & Simon of Cyrene carry the Cross

Quite a paradox, isn’t it? It's a paradox fulfilled first by Jesus Himself on the Cross. It is there He loses His life only to find it through His glorious Resurrection and through the birth of His Church.

In the same way, Peter, too, will throw away his life like a seed, a seed that will flower into the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church.

Lose yourselves in Jesus Christ, brothers and sisters. Accept the crosses that come your way.

Only then will you experience true liberation, true freedom – freedom from all the constraints and pains and darkness of this life.

Only then will you experience life, the eternal life that God has planned for you.

Wonders of the World?

We've all heard of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World:

Colossus of Rhodes
Great Pyramid of Giza
Hanging Gardens of Babylon
Lighthouse of Alexandria
Mausoleum at Halicarnassus
Statue of Zeus at Olympia
Temple of Artemis at Ephesus

...as well as the Seven Natural Wonders of the World:

Grand Canyon
The Great Barrier Reef
The Harbor at Rio de Janeiro
Mt. Everest
Northern Lights
Paricutin Volcano
Victoria Falls

There are also many additional lists of modern wonders of the world, none of which seem to agree. And then, thanks to an errant Google search, I recently stumbled on this website, describing "10 Wonders of the World You Don't Know". Six of these "wonders" are in Asia, three in Europe, and one in Africa. The only one I have actually seen up close and personal is #10, the Banaue Rice Terraces in the Philippines. As for the others, I will have to experience them online, since I have no desire to visit any of these wondrous places, particularly those in Libya and Myanmar.

Banaue Rice Terraces - Philippines

Since it seems to be all the rage, I think I'll create my own list of wonders, but restrict it to edifices constructed by us humans to worship God. I won't limit it to Judeo-Christian edifices, but will require that each is still standing and can be visited. I already have seven picked out, but someone may have some better candidates. I'll share my first two now, both in Rome: the Pantheon and St. Peter's Basilica. Anyone have any suggestions for others?

The Pantheon, Rome

 

 

Basilica of St. Peter, Vatican City

Homily: Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul

Readings: Acts 12:1-11; Ps 34; 2 Tim 4:6-8,17-18; Mt 16:13-19

For those of us who constantly struggle to live our faith in a world increasingly hostile to the practice of Christian virtue, the lives of the saints can be a real inspiration. But they can also be a bit of an obstacle. I don't know about you, but sometimes the Saints seem to set a standard of holiness and virtue so high as to be virtually unattainable. The holiness of a Therese, or a Francis of Assisi, or a Mother Teresa, or the courage and submission of the martyrs can seem so beyond our reach that we become discouraged on our own journey of faith. How can we ever hope to measure up? How can we ever achieve the saintliness that God wants for each of us?

And yet, it's important to realize that saints don't become saints solely through their own efforts. Indeed, no one can become a saint. It’s God who makes saints. The two saints we honor today are among the best examples of God's saint-making handiwork.

For today we celebrate the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, the greatest of the Apostles, two men called by Jesus Christ, specially chosen: one to lead His Church and the other to spread the Faith throughout the world. Although each was a man of tremendous faith, and each would die a martyr's death in Rome, God could hardly have chosen two more different or more unlikely men than Peter and Paul.

Simon Peter, the callused, sun-burnt fisherman. The man of action, the rough and tumble blue-collar worker of 1st Century Palestine. A man of emotion, full of bluster and passion who often spoke and acted without thinking. A seemingly simple, straightforward man. And yet, beneath the surface, a complex man filled with contradictions. A man who readily responded to Jesus' call, but often resisted the message and mission that went with it. A man who spent three years with Jesus listening to a message he didn't really comprehend. A man whose faith underwent wild swings from deeply fervent to barely lukewarm. A man who could pledge undying loyalty to Jesus one day, then deny Him the next. A man who failed the test as often as he passed it.

And yet this is the man, Simon Peter, this complex mix of human strength and weakness, whom Jesus chose to lead His Church. For it’s Peter who dares to answer the Lord's question in today's Gospel reading, "And you, who do you say that I am?" It’s Peter who accepts and openly proclaims the revelation he has received from the Father: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God." And so it’s Peter to whom Jesus then turns and declares: "You are 'Rock,' and on this rock I will build my church."

Commissioned by Jesus, he is first among the Apostles, the first Vicar of Christ, the first Pope, the one chosen to represent the entire church: "I will entrust to you the keys of the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you declare bound on earth shall be bound in heaven; whatever you declare loosed on earth shall be loosed in heaven." The authority and responsibility promised to Peter by these words was likely lost on him at the time. For it’s only later that he begins to understand what will be asked of him.

Recall how, shortly after the Resurrection, Peter and several of the Apostles share a breakfast of loaves and fishes prepared by the Risen Jesus. They are on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, sitting around a charcoal fire that Jesus had made, a fire similar to the one at which Peter had warmed himself in the high priest's courtyard the night Jesus was arrested. After they had eaten, Jesus asks Peter to confess his love, not once, but three times, as if to give him a triple chance to atone for his triple denial, to let him recapture what he lost when, overcome by fear, he turned his back on the Lord. By now Peter knows he is weak, and so he places all in Christ's hands: "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you."

After each declaration of love, Peter is told, "Feed my lambs, feed my sheep." With these words, Jesus' earlier promise is fulfilled. Peter is singled out. He alone is given primacy. He becomes the shepherd of the entire flock, the universal church. And because "the jaws of death shall not prevail against" the church, Peter's authority is passed on to his successors down through history to our present day, even until the end of time.

Then, on that first Pentecost, just a few weeks later, we see a new Peter, now filled with the Holy Spirit, no longer fearful but bursting with enthusiasm to spread the Gospel and baptize -- a man transformed. Such is the power of the Holy Spirit, the power of God's grace, that it turns weakness into strength, cowards into martyrs, fishermen into popes. Peter is the Rock, not because of Peter, but because of Jesus.

Peter, the ordinary man who went on to do extraordinary things for God, gives us more than an example to follow. He gives us, the ordinary men and women of today, that which we need more than anything else. He gives us Hope, and reminds us of the greatness to which we are all called. But like Peter, we can realize that greatness only if we first humbly acknowledge our own emptiness and weakness before God.

In contrast to Peter, Paul was no ordinary man. He came from Tarsus, a Hellenized cosmopolitan city in Asia Minor, a local center of culture, philosophy, and education. An educated Jew and a Roman citizen, he was also a Pharisee, one of those legalistic nit-pickers so caught up in the minutia of Mosaic Law that they had lost any understanding of its spirit. "Hypocrites!" Jesus called them, "A brood of vipers." Clearly the Pharisees were not high on his list.

We first encounter Paul, then named Saul, early in the book of Acts. He takes part in the execution of Stephen, the first Christian martyr -- and, I might add, a deacon -- by guarding the cloaks of those who cast the killing stones. He then becomes a zealous persecutor of the early Christian Church -- an unlikely candidate for sainthood. But God had other plans for Paul.

We all know the story of Paul's miraculous conversion when Jesus reveals Himself on the road to Damascus. And like Peter, Paul can accept Jesus only because he first recognizes the truth about himself. Indeed, his conversion is symbolized by the scales that cover his eyes and blind him...scales that are removed only when he enters the embrace of the Church. Paul not only embraces the Church, he goes on to become the greatest of evangelists, the Apostle to the gentiles, spreading the Gospel throughout the Roman Empire. As the spiritual descendants of those first-century gentiles, we owe Paul, more than any other, a debt of gratitude for our Christian faith.

But Paul knows that the glory for his work goes to God, for it is through God's grace that he was brought to the Truth, and it is God's grace that sustained him in his ministry. Recall the words of today's second reading, written by an imprisoned Paul as he awaits martyrdom, "But the Lord stood by my side and gave me strength, so that all the nations might hear the gospel. To Him be glory forever and ever."

Jesus gave the Church these two great Apostles: Peter who had been Simon and Paul who had been Saul. Peter the fisherman, the small-town Galilean Jew. Paul the Pharisee, the scholar of the Law. Peter always conscious of the Faith's Old Testament roots, and Paul who found in Christ, "all things new." Peter who had lived and walked with Jesus. Paul who encountered Him outside of time itself on the road to Damascus. Peter and Paul in Rome. Peter in chains. Paul imprisoned. Peter crucified on an inverted cross because he felt unworthy to die as His Lord had died. Paul martyred by the sword, as befit a citizen of Rome.

Two very different men, and yet their message and their example of total abandonment to God's Will go out through all the earth…then and now.

To Him be glory forever and ever!