Homily: Christmas Vigil - Year C

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

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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]

 

Timely and Saintly Words

Struggling as so many are, dealing month after month with pandemic restrictions and separation from others, I thought perhaps we all needed some words of encouragement and even redirection. It's easy to become a bit too inward-focused as we live out this odd cocoon-like existence and find ourselves actually looking forward to Face-time calls and Zoom meetings. Yes, indeed, we could all use some words to lift up our hearts and turn those same hearts to the Lord.

Here are a few comments by saintly men and women who managed to live extraordinary lives despite the difficult challenges they faced.

“Bodily suffering makes wicked souls miserable, but borne with fortitude it purifies souls that are good.” - St. Augustine

“Make sickness itself a prayer.” - St. Francis de Sales

“He causes his prayers to be of greater advantage to himself, who offers prayer also for others.” - Pope St. Gregory I

“God’s will is as much in sickness as in health.” - St. Francis de Sales

“Rise, let us be on our way!” - St. John Paul II

“Let us throw ourselves into God’s arms, and be sure that if He wants something from us, He will give us the strength to do everything He wants us to.” - St. Philip Neri

“Nothing can happen to me that God doesn't want. And all that He wants, no matter how bad it may appear to us, is really for the best.” - St. Thomas More

"Let the brothers ever avoid appearing gloomy, sad, and clouded, like the hypocrites; but let one ever be found joyous." - St. Francis of Assisi

“It does us much good, when we suffer, to have friendly hearts whose echo responds to our suffering.” - St. Thérèse of Lisieux

"Imagine yourself always to be the servant of all, and look upon all as if they were Christ our Lord in person; and so shall you do Him honor and reverence." - St. Teresa of Jesus

“He prays best who does not know that he is praying.” – St. Anthony of the Desert

“God allows failure but does not want discouragement.” - St. Teresa of Calcutta

“Don’t become discouraged. I have seen you fight ... Your defeat today is training for the final victory.” - St. Josemaría Escrivá

“Joy, study and piety: this is the best program to make you happy, and is the one that will most benefit your soul.” - St. John Bosco

“True love is hidden in the depths of the virtues, and manifests itself in any adversity.” - St. John of the Cross

“It is proper of faith to make us humble in happy events and unperturbed in setbacks.” - St. Clare of Assisi

“Have great confidence in God: His mercy is infinitely greater than our weakness.” - St. Margaret Mary Alacoque

"Humility is the mother of salvation." -- St. Bernard

"There is no love without hope, no hope without love, and neither hope nor love without faith." -- St. Augustine

 Faith over fear! God's peace.

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.

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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.

COVID-19 Bible Study Reflection #6: Abandonment

Our elder son calls us almost daily. Of course, he loves us, and we enjoy talking with him. But I suspect he’s also checking up on the “old folks,” just to make sure we’re still capable of answering the phone. Anyway, the other day, when I answered his call, he asked, “How are you handling all this weirdness?”

And he’s right, isn’t he? It has been weird. For a couple of months now, except for walking the dog and making occasional but brief trips to the store and post office, we’ve been cooped up in our home, isolated from others, forced to redefine much of our lives. 

The weirdest part has been the absence of human contact, especially with our friends. And yet some good has come of this. Diane and I have certainly spent more time together and are even learning to compromise on our TV watching. We’ve watched a lot of Jane Austen DVDs together and are now working our way through some strange Amazon Prime series. I’ve also worked on honing my cooking and laundry skills.

Among the more pleasant changes, is my growing relationship with our trash collectors. I now recognize them, and they me. They collect our trash twice weekly, usually in the pre-dawn hours, about the same time I take Maddie for her morning walk. Hungry for human contact, I now stop and greet these young men as they jump on and off their truck picking up our garbage. They have a hard, backbreaking, and smelly job, but they always greet me with a smile and a cheery “Good morning!” In the midst of the “weirdness” I have developed a new respect for these men and their work.

Yes, indeed, things have gotten weird. But weirdness always generates questions, and questions often lead me to Sacred Scripture. After all, God not only has all the answers, He is the answer. And one of the best places to find that answer is the Sermon on the Mount; for it’s there that Jesus both challenges and comforts us. This morning offers a good example. While Diane underwent her physical therapy, I sat in the waiting room of the rehab center, wearing my facemask, and reading from the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 6 about the futility of worry. It’s not a long passage, so let’s read it now:

Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat (or drink), or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they? Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your lifespan? Why are you anxious about clothes? Learn from the way the wildflowers grow. They do not work or spin. But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them. If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith? So do not worry and say, 'What are we to eat?' or 'What are we to drink?' or 'What are we to wear?' All these things the pagans seek. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides. Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil [Mt 6:25-34].

Of course what Jesus is telling the crowd, and what He is telling us, is that worry over food, clothing, health, or any material need is simply a substitute, and a very poor one at that, for concern about our eternal salvation. He tells us to turn our attention from our worldly needs to eternal needs: “But seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness…”

So often, instead of being disciples, we are worriers. We spend much of our time planning our futures, calculating profit and loss, assets and debits, being the responsible people the world expects of us to be. This, Jesus tells us, is a waste of the energy and talents God has given us. We are called to do otherwise. We are called to put aside all anxiety and replace it with self-abandonment, to choose a life in which God provides and we receive. This eternal call of Jesus is echoed throughout all of Sacred Scripture. Here is just one example:

“Unless the Lord build the house, they labor in vain who build. Unless the Lord guard the city, in vain does the guard keep watch. It is vain for you to rise early and put off your rest at night, to eat bread earned by hard toil — all this God gives to his beloved in sleep” [Ps 127:1-2].

Our passage from the Sermon on the Mount is, of course, about more than freedom from worry. It’s really about how we should live our lives in times of both trouble and joy. And far too many of us live lives that don’t at all conform to Jesus’ expectations.

For example, some months ago I had a brief encounter with a parishioner who approached me right after Mass. She began by asking a straightforward question about the day’s Gospel reading. It related to prayer. I was in a bit of a hurry, so I gave her a pretty sketchy, off-the-cuff answer, one that seemed to satisfy her. But then she said, “I’d really like to deepen my spiritual life, but I just don’t seem to have the time.”

My first thought was one of self-criticism. (I’m pretty sure the Holy Spirit had a lot to do with this.) Here this woman had come to me, hoping for some spiritual direction, and yet I was so wrapped up in my own concerns, I really didn’t want to spend even a few minutes with her.

Her desire for a deeper spirituality is not uncommon. Many of us seek a more intimate relationship with God but become frustrated by the busyness of our lives. Work, family life, and other obligations and demands move God to a back burner. 

Although the woman who approached me is retired, I know she’s active in the community, involved in both recreational activities and charitable work. I won’t criticize her, though, especially in light of my own faults, because she obviously recognized this need in her life, or she wouldn’t have asked the question. I could tell it worried her. 

I suppose it all boils down to how we set our life’s priorities. Of course, she was really asking about prayer, wasn’t she? For it’s through our prayer lives that we deepen our relationship with God. And so, maybe this complaint of not having the time for prayer is worth looking into.

Perhaps we should turn first to the experts, the saints. Interestingly, when we examine the lives of the saints, we discover a kind of happy paradox. You see, the more they prayed, the more time they seemed to have for their apostolic work. Indeed, the busiest of saints – people like St. Dominic, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Benedict, St. Catherine of Siena, St. Francis of Assisi – all seemed to accomplish enough to fill several long lifetimes. And yet each devoted a considerable amount of time to prayer. 

Let’s return to our Gospel passage where the Lord promised to add “all these things” to those who seek first the kingdom of God. It would seem “all these things” must also include time. In other words, if we give time to God, He will give it back to us with interest.

This probably sounds a bit mysterious, and, like most of God’s doings, I suppose it is. But the importance of time in our spiritual lives becomes clearer if we just look at it from a human perspective, the only perspective you and I can probably understand.

You see, the saints considered time a gift from God, a gift through which they could work out their salvation. But to use this gift well demands some degree of conscious planning, but with special regard to the life of the soul. As any good time-management consultant would tell you, making better use of your time is often just a matter of changing habits. When it comes to your prayer life, you need only develop the habit of prayer. By this I mean turning the most commonplace activities into opportunities for prayer. Let me offer a few examples:

Try saying the Rosary while taking a walk or while waiting in the doctor’s or dentist’s office. After all, what’s more profitable for your soul, reading some two-year-old magazine or meditating on the mysteries of the Rosary?

What’s the first thing you do when you wake up each morning? Why not say, “hello”, to God? Pray some form of the morning offering in which you dedicate your entire day to doing His will in your life. It takes only a minute, and yet it sets the tone, a prayerful tone, for your entire day

Set aside a specific time each day to read from Sacred Scripture – just a few verses from both Old and New Testaments. The Psalms and Gospels might be a good place to start. Read and then meditate on what you have read. How does the Word of God apply to your life this day?

Before going to bed each evening, take a few moments to reflect on your day. Conduct a brief examination of conscience, reviewing your thoughts, words, and deeds, and asking God to help you in obedience to His commandment to love God and neighbor.

Such simple, prayerful acts provide wonderful ways to fix our minds on God as well as making intercession for those around us, especially those who don’t know God’s love. Just think of all the opportunities God gives us for prayer each day. It gives new meaning to what St. Paul wrote to the Thessalonians:

“Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus. Do not quench the Spirit” [1 Thes 5:16-19].

Rejoice always, pray always, give thanks always, and don’t quench the Spirit. Is this the way you and I live our lives?

As Christians we are called not just to make time for prayer, for rejoicing, and for giving thanks. We’re called to do so always, in all circumstances – to do so deliberately and perseveringly, even in the face of great difficulties. This is what our faith really means. To live our faith, we must rejoice always. We must pray without ceasing. We must give thanks in all circumstances. 

Now I don’t know about you, but I find this very difficult, so difficult that I fail daily as I struggle to live my faith. Eventually we must come to terms with our own weakness and realize we can’t do any of this on our own. God wants to lead us on the path to this ideal, this perfection to which He calls us. The first step, then, is how we use His gift of time. 

Remember, to those who love God, everything is a gift, something for which we should give thanks. If we are to give thanks in all circumstances, we must even thank God for this pandemic that has so confused our lives and taken the lives of so many. None of us can speak for others, but we can speak for ourselves. Consider the good that has come to you during this challenging time, the good you have embraced, that which you have ignored, and that which you have yet to experience. Thank God for it all.

If we have been given one thing during the past few months, it is time – time to change those old habits, time to deepen our prayer life, time to allow God to strengthen our relationship with Him. How much of that gift have you wasted on the frivolous and how much have you devoted to worry? 

Dear friends, God’s generosity can never be exceeded. He rewards faithfulness not only with progress in prayer, but also by providing more time to devote to it. You need only ask.

You see, it’s always best to take the Lord at His word. After all, He said, “Ask and it shall be given to you,” so why not simply ask God to lead you in your prayer life, to provide the time you need?

Like all spiritual gifts time must come from God according to His will and not be snatched against His will; therefore, we should not neglect the responsibilities that come with our state in life for the sake of prayer. Prayer is the means by which we allow God to move in our lives. It is not an end in itself. 

What else did St. Paul say? Oh yes, “Do not quench the Spirit!” How often, so wrapped up in our own plans and ways, do we turn away from the Holy Spirit? The soul should trust the Holy Spirit to take care of its sanctification, for He will find wondrous ways to unite the soul more closely to Himself. 

Don’t question the Spirit’s movement, for it is almost always surprising, showing us the power of God by calling us through our weakness. The Spirit works in us and through us even amid life’s confusion and turmoil and an apparent lack of time. 

Remember, too, that God has placed you in this time and place for a reason, to fulfill His will in your life and the lives of those He loves. Trust that He will bring about whatever must happen in your life to lead you and those others to a closer union with Him. 

God calls each of us to be faithful. We need only turn our lives over to Him and allow Him to work within us. By deepening your prayer life, by bringing your life into communion with God’s Will, you can expect Him to work major changes in your life. 

God is a demanding lover, but He will never force Himself on us. Because He respects our freedom, the choice is always up to you and me. But like the perfect lover, He calls constantly, patiently awaiting our response. Only then, only when we have opened ourselves to His love, will He go to work in our lives. Realize, too, that as your relationship with Him deepens, His demands on you will increase. 

I hope this rather disorganized reflection may lead you to a deeper understanding of the need to use God’s gift of time as a means to deepen your relationship with Him. For the faithful, worry achieves nothing because we trust that God will provide all that we need.

Let me conclude with a prayer written by Blessed Charles de Foucauld who was beatified in 2005 by Pope Benedict XVI. Blessed Charles was a soldier, explorer, geographer, Trappist monk, linguist, hermit, and priest. He spent his last years living in North Africa, the only Christian living alone among the Tuaregs, a rather fierce tribe of Muslim desert nomads who ultimately took his life. To our knowledge he converted no one during his lifetime, and yet today his life has become a model for so many, a model of abandonment to God’s Will, regardless of the personal cost. Here is his prayer…

Father, I abandon myself into your hands;

do with me what you will.

Whatever you may do,

I thank you.

I am ready for all, I accept all.

Let only your will be done in me,

and in all your creatures.

I wish no more than this, O Lord.

Into your hands I commend my soul;

I offer it to you

with all the love of my heart,

for I love you, Lord,

and so need to give myself,

to surrender myself into your hands,

without reserve,

and with boundless confidence,

for you are my Father.

What more can we give our God than this?

A Saint for Our Times

Every so often I will encounter someone who believes that the Gospels, and indeed the entire Bible, are really no longer relevant because, "...after all, they were written thousands of years ago. How can they possible apply to our lives in today's world?" These are the same people who actually believe that human nature has changed, or in their parlance "evolved", since those barbarous times that preceded our more enlightened age.

These folks are perhaps best typified by a high school English teacher I sat next to on a plane a few years ago. In the course of our conversation, when she mentioned that she was currently teaching a course in English literature to seniors, I asked what authors she focused on. "Stephen King," she replied, "and Philip Roth, and Virginia Woolf, and Norman Mailer, and J. D. Salinger, and Toni Morrison, and Jack Kerouac, and Elizabeth Bishop, and James Joyce..." As the litany continued I interrupted her and asked, "Oh, so this is a course in modern English lit?" "Oh, no, she replied, but I find that most of those old, dead guys like Shakespeare really have little to tell us today." I won't bore you with the rest of our conversation; but, as you might imagine, it was rather animated.

All of this leads me to several observations. First, a work of truly good literature, what we would traditionally call a "classic", is a classic because it is not a captive of its times. This is why these works continue to be read even after hundreds, and in some instances thousands, of years. They are timeless because they are able to grasp and unravel and depict those "permanent things" in ways that continue to enlighten us regardless of the times in which we live. This is why I am never bored, why I can always find enjoyment by just sitting down and reading one of Shakespeare's plays, or a Jane Austen novel, or an essay by T. S. Eliot.

My second observation relates to the continued relevance of Sacred Scripture. If we believe that Jesus Christ is the Incarnate Son of God, the creative Word of God, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, then anything He said is a priori relevant; indeed, His words must be the most relevant words ever spoken. And since Sacred Scripture is His Word, it too applies to all times and peoples. If we consider such works as  Hamlet and Moby Dick, the words of mere men, to be classics, then Sacred Scripture, the Word of God, must be the Classic Supreme.

My final observation relates to the actual subject of this post: the continued relevance of the saints, even those who lived in very different times and were products of very different cultures. Despite all their differences, despite their separation from us in time and culture, the saints all have this one thing in common: the saints lived the Word of God. In other words, their lives reflected God's will for them and for humanity. And so, because the lives of the saints reflect God's Word and will, their lives can be nothing but relevant to us.

I mention all this in order to introduce a saint whom many would no doubt consider irrelevant when viewed through the lens of our modern sensibilities. She wrote nothing. She left behind no words of wisdom. She knew no popes or bishops, and probably very few priests. She didn't socialize with the rich and famous; indeed, she was rejected and cast aside by almost everyone, even her own parents and the cloistered nuns she lived with for a time. Only the poorest, the outcasts, the imprisoned -- the little ones of Christ -- were drawn to her, as she was drawn to them. She was blind, hunchbacked, lame, ugly and a dwarf. She lived 700 years ago in Citta-di-Castello, a small Umbrian city in central Italy where she survived as a homeless beggar. But she was far more than all these things, because she was also holy. She lived the Gospel as very few have before or since. Her name was Margherita, but we know her as Blessed Margaret of Castello. (Margaret has been beatified by the Church, but not yet canonized.)

I was first introduced to Blessed Margaret 30 years ago when someone in my previous parish (I have forgotten who) gave me a copy of Father William Bonniwell's book, The Life of Blessed Margaret Castello. (Although first written in 1952 and reprinted in 1979, the book is still available in paperback. Click on the book's title to order it via Amazon.) At the time we were forming a pro-life group in the parish and, after reading the book, I recommended we name Blessed Margaret as our group's patron saint. That began my relationship with this remarkable woman.

I won't go into detail on her relatively brief life (she died at the age of 33), because those details are available elsewhere on the web. (Click here to read an abbreviated version of her life.) I do believe, however, that Margaret is perhaps the perfect saint for our times. Who can better represent modern society's unloved, the outcasts that the world would just as soon dispose of through abortion or euthanasia? Margaret was the daughter of a wealthy, well-connected couple who were horrified and embarrassed by the birth of their less than perfect child. Today, armed with such modern medical tools as amniocentesis and ultrasound, her enlightened parents would no doubt have aborted her. How many saints like Margaret have been lost to the world because of parents whose only measure of a child's worth is physical perfection? And speaking of physical perfection, Blessed Margaret's body remains incorrupt to this day and can be viewed in the church of Santo Domenico in Citta-di-Castello, the city where she lived her adult life.

I suggest that, in anticipation of her feast day, April 14, you and I pray her novena, asking her to intercede for our nation and our world, to soften the hearts of those who have embraced the culture of death. Here's a link to her novena on the web: Novena to Blessed Margaret of Castello. And there is also a wonderful DVD on Blessed Margaret that you can obtain here.

Blessed Margaret, pray for us.