Ordinary Time 26 - Leave It All On The Field

 

Homily for Ordinary Time 26

October 1, 2023

Kenosis

 

            Paul wrote his letter to the Philippians from prison, and appropriately so, since it contains some of the most treasonous and seditious words ever penned: Christos Kurios, Jesus Christ is Lord. Why is this treason? Because Kurios – Lord – was the title given to Caesar alone. In fact, after his death, the Roman Senate declared Julius Caesar to be “Dominus et Deus” – Lord and god. Caligula, who lived during Paul’s early ministry, insisted on being worshipped as a god and called Kurios by all. So to proclaim that Jesus Christ, a humble carpenter who was brutally executed, was truly Kurios, truly Dominus et Deus, would be nothing short of treason.

            But how different was Christ’s Lordship than the Roman Emperors! The emperors were constantly grasping, clinging to power. It was said of one of the ancient Roman leaders that “it was safer to be his pig than his son” since he often put his own sons to death in a vain attempt to hold on to all the power himself. Caligula himself smothered his own uncle so he could be emperor, and then would murder anyone he merely suspected of disloyalty. It was a desperate grasp for power and glory.

            But Paul says that “though He was in the form of God, He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped at.” Instead, as Dominus et Deus – Lord and God – Jesus did something quite surprising – He emptied Himself, and took the form of a slave.

            There is a word in Greek that captures this perfectly – Kenosis. Kenosis means self-emptying, pouring-out, humbling oneself, abasing oneself to the lowest place. This is the radical mystery of the Incarnation – that God would leave behind all the glory, all the perfection of His Heavenly Throne, to purposely choose to subject Himself to pain and cold and rejection when it was completely avoidable. He emptied Himself freely – for us and for our salvation.

            We lose a sense of this in our comfortable, egalitarian society, but imagine for a moment that you were living back in the first century. A king could enjoy a warm castle, sufficient food, fine clothes and a nice bed, adoring crowds, security, and the ability to do whatever he wanted. Imagine, then, that this king desired to dwell among his peasants. This meant leaving behind the food, warmth, comfort, security, and walking out into a world where dirt and disease, filth and discomfort would be the everyday lot of the common people.

            Even consider the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem – we tend to romanticize it, but it was probably pretty rough. It smelled awful, like sweaty animals and dung. Jesus was likely shivering in the cold, and I don’t know if you’ve ever slept in straw, but it is profoundly uncomfortable and ridden with bugs and filth. They probably rarely had enough to eat, and the Holy Family – like all the poor in those days – knew hunger as their constant companion. They had to live in fear every day – fear of being robbed, kidnapped, or murdered by roving bands of marauders. He left His heavenly throne…for that? And yet He would go further, entering into the depths of utter abandonment upon the Cross, where He gave up His freedom to be nailed to a tree, He gave up his possessions as He was stripped of His garments, He gave up His self-respect as He was mocked and spat upon, He gave up even His very life as He breathed His last.

            As we declare in the Easter Vigil, “To ransom a slave, You gave away Your Son.” This Kenosis was for us, to lift us out of our spiritual poverty and welcomed us into the Heavenly Mansion prepared for those who love Him. It was a loving condescension, not just to make us feel better about being poor fallen human beings, but to lift us up so that we might participate in His Divine Life in everlasting joy!

            Okay, that is all very beautiful, but how does it apply to us? Two ways – first, we owe Him an incredible debt of thanksgiving for such Kenosis, such self-emptying. Our entire lives must really be about thanksgiving. Ultimately that’s why we celebrate the Eucharist – which means “thanksgiving” – to give worship and thanks for Christ’s total gift of self. Jesus’ earthly life was His descent into our misery; the Eucharist is our ascent to His glory.

            Second, He has given us an example to imitate. As John Paul II said, “Christ reveals man to himself” – He is the exemplar and archetype of the human race. Just as Christ’s life was one of not-grasping but pouring-out, so we must practice that same kind of kenosis for Him and for our neighbor.

            I am reminded of the beautiful example of the Catholic monks in Algeria, in the Monastery of Our Lady of Atlas. Built in the 1940s, this monastery began in rather hostile Muslim territory. But the monks soon won over the people by providing education, food, and medical care to the local peasant population. In 1996, civil war struck Algeria, and on several occasion the monks were threatened by radical Islamic terrorists. They were told to leave – and even the head of their religious community back in France urged them to travel to safety. And they debated back and forth about whether or not to abandon their mission, but in the end the monks knew that their lives were meant to be poured out as a living sacrifice for the poor Muslims of Algeria. Resolutely, they stayed and continued providing essential services to the poor.

            One night, the terrorists broke into the monastery and captured seven of the monks and marched them into the desert, where they gave them one last chance to recant their faith in God. But the monks knew they had poured out their lives for the people – now they had a chance to pour out their lives for God. They stayed steadfast in their Faith and were martyred. Pope Francis made them a “blessed” (one step away from sainthood) in 2018.

            In sports, coaches will often say, “Leave it all out on the field” – meaning, give 100% to every play. That, perhaps, is a modern adaptation of kenosis – pour oneself out for the mission. In our case, the mission is for Jesus Christ and for our sanctification and the sanctification of the world. Where are we not bringing 100% to that mission? Are we praying 100%, sacrificing 100%, doing whatever is necessary to avoid sin and practice virtue? If Christos Kurios, if Jesus Christ is Lord, then He is worth pouring it all out for, because the more we pour out for Him, the more He lifts us up to share in His everlasting glory.

Ordinary Time 24 - The Number of Forgiveness

 

Homily for Ordinary Time 24

September 17, 2023

The Number of Forgiveness

 

            Unless you know the Scriptures well you will miss the important reference that Jesus is making in the number of times we have to forgive. He says seventy-seven…okay, so is he just giving a cute exponential of Peter’s request? No – much more than that.

            Way back in Genesis, we have the story of Cain and Abel. We know the story – Cain, in his jealousy, kills his brother, and then is forced to wander the earth with a mark on his forehead. Cain despairs, saying that people will know who he is and what he did, and they will kill him for it. But God remarks that no, Cain will not die – and if anyone tries to kill Cain, God will avenge him sevenfold.

            Cain had many sons and grandsons, and one great-grandson was a particularly wicked man named Lamech. He said to his wives, “If anyone harms me, I will avenge him – not sevenfold, but seventy-seven times.” Instead of allowing God to mete out justice, Lamech takes it into his own hand – and does so much more harshly than even God’s justice.

            So when Jesus tells Peter to forgive seventy-seven times, the Lord is referencing the story of Lamech and making an important point – it is not up to man to exact vengeance, like Lamech wanted to do. Rather, we forgive, because in the end it is God Who will judge justly and rightly, not us.

            But wait…there’s more. If you read a different translation of the Bible, Jesus doesn’t say “seventy-seven” times but “seven times seven times” – in other words, 490 times. The original Greek New Testament is actually very vague about which one is the accurate translation…and purposely so, because 490 is also hugely significant!

            Israel’s great sin in the Old Testament was idolatry. For centuries they worshipped the Canaanite god Ba’al and his female counterpart, Ashteroth. Even after God called them back to fidelity to the Covenant time and time again through prophets and chastisements, they still continued to stray. So to correct His wayward people and purge idolatry from their midst once and for all, God allowed them to be taken into exile in Babylon. They wanted to adopt the gods of the surrounding nations – so God allowed them to be taken into the surrounding nations to wake them up and make them realize that they were truly the Chosen People who are meant to have an exclusive relationship with the True God.

            And the exile in Babylon worked! The people cried out to God for mercy…but as the years dragged on, they wondered if they would ever make it back home. So the prophet Daniel asked the Lord for wisdom – when would this exile end? God spoke to Daniel and told him that seventy years would pass until they returned home…but the sin would not be purged until seventy times seven years. At that time, 490 years after the exile is over, God would send the Messiah to make reconciliation for sins – not just for the sins of Israel, but for the sins of the whole world. And, approximately 490 years later, Jesus was born.

            So when Jesus says we have to forgive seventy times seven, He’s referencing the prophesy of Daniel and saying that we have to forgive like God forgives, since God has had mercy on all of the sins of the world.

            And there’s the important point about today’s Gospel – and the whole of the Christian life – how much we have already been forgiven for. The entire purpose of Jesus’ life, ministry, death, and Resurrection was to forgive our sins and bring us into union with God. Modern-day Americans often don’t get this, in part because they think their sins aren’t a big deal. We’re generally don’t have drug dealers and gang members at St. Jude’s Church, true. But that doesn’t mean we’re blameless.

            In fact, God says through the prophet Isaiah that “all of our good deeds are like polluted rags.” It’s not so much what we do, but who we offend. Consider: if God is our all-holy Creator, the Lord of the Universe, the Maker and Lover of our souls, then in justice we owe Him our complete adoration, love, and obedience. Even small sins, small disobediences to His laws, violate what we owe Him as His creatures.

            One time St. Padre Pio was praying in the chapel late at night when he saw a Franciscan brother sweeping the church. He didn’t recognize the sweeping friar, so Padre Pio said, “Who are you? It’s late, you should be getting to bed.” The friar responded, “I used to be assigned to this monastery, and my task was to take care of the church. But I would frequently pass by the Tabernacle without genuflecting or any sign of reverence. For this reason, I am in Purgatory and I ask for your prayers.” With that, he vanished – and Padre Pio said Mass for that soul the following day, so that the soul could go to Heaven.

            God has a right to our complete love, adoration, and obedience. When we sin, we deprive Him of that right. When we sin – even small sins like gossip or gluttony or holding a grudge – we corrupt the Image of Christ that had been forged within our souls at Baptism. Jesus said in the Gospels that “we would have to give an account of every frivolous word that we have spoken.” So our sins have to be dealt with – but we could never repay the all-holy God with our paltry acts of repentance.

            So, we needed a Savior. We couldn’t pay back the debt we owed the Father – so Jesus paid it back on our behalf. We couldn’t offer God any act of perfect love, obedience, or worship – so Jesus offered, on the Cross, the perfect act of love, obedience, and worship, in the name of all of humanity. And as the Father accepted that perfect sacrifice, which reconciled God and humanity. We have already been judged and acquitted of our sins because Christ paid the penalty for them.

            When we consider the huge debt that we’ve been forgiven of, and how much it cost, then how can we withhold forgiveness from our neighbor? Jesus, the only Perfect One among all of history, could say, “Father, forgive them” to the men who were nailing His hands to the Cross – how could we not forgive our brothers and sisters who are doing far less to us? If you are struggling to forgive, I urge you to look at the Cross – you will see what price purchased your forgiveness – and it will help our hearts to realize that if He can forgive us for what we’ve done to Him, then we can forgive others for what they’ve done for us.

            In the 1300s a young Italian woman named Rita was forced into an arranged marriage with a Mafia boss, Paolo Mancini, from that region. Her mobster husband made many enemies, and their marriage was constantly tense as his family was locked in an unending feud with a rival mob family. Finally, one day, Paolo was murdered by rival mobsters, causing great grief to his family.

            But Rita, with heroic courage, publicly forgave the murderers at her husband’s funeral. Nevertheless, Rita’s two sons vowed to avenge their father’s death. Rita begged them to forgive, but they refused to listen. So Rita turned to the Lord and begged that Jesus would do anything necessary for them to avoid revenge. Just as the elder son was preparing to go off to exact revenge, he came down with a severe illness, which prevented him from leaving. The younger son, then, prepared to go…and he too was struck with severe illness. Both young men realized the error of their ways, and made good Confessions before they passed away from their illnesses. Rita, although saddened, was eternally grateful to the Lord for preserving her sons from revenge – and we know her as St. Rita of Cascia, whose mission to forgive cost a great deal, but brought peace to her entire family.

            If you struggle to forgive, look at the Cross. How could we remain unforgiving when He is the price of our forgiveness?

Ordinary Time 23 - Tolerance Is Not A Virtue

 

Homily for Ordinary Time 23

September 10, 2023

Tolerance Is Not A Virtue

 

            Twelve-year-old Raymond was making trouble again. His mother, frustrated at his bad behavior, threw up her hands and exclaimed, “Raymond! What is going to become of you!” For some reason, those words struck him to his heart, and he went immediately to the local church where, standing before the statue of the Blessed Mother, he said, “My Lady, what is going to become of me?”

            Immediately he had a vision of the Blessed Virgin, who held out two crowns: one white, and one red. The white one symbolized purity, and the red one symbolized martyrdom. She asked the boy, “Will you accept either of these crowns?” Raymond said that he would accept them both, and the vision ended. Raymond ended up turning his life around drastically, becoming a Franciscan priest and taking the religious name of Maximilian. We now know him better as St. Maximilian Kolbe, the Polish priest who gave his life for another man at Auschwitz.

            But if it weren’t for the word of reproach from his mother, the young boy Raymond may have headed down a completely different path. Sometimes a well-timed correction can save a life and save a soul.

            That’s not easy, though, in a world that believes in “live and let live”. Hey, you do you. Who am I to judge?, we ask. Our world holds up tolerance as the great secular goal – but tolerance is not a Christian virtue. Jesus teaches us that we do have a duty to care for the spiritual lives of others – there is a beautiful principle in Catholic teaching called solidarity – basically the idea that we are our brothers’ keeper, not only in their physical needs but also in their spiritual needs. This is why, in addition to the Seven Corporal Works of mercy – works such as feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, shelter the homeless – we also have Seven Spiritual Works of Mercy, such as praying for the living and the dead, counseling the doubtful, instructing the ignorant…and the very difficult one of admonish the sinner.

             If we were to see a car crash by the side of the road, I hope we would have the generosity of heart to stop and try to help the people who might be injured. We wouldn’t just pass by and say, “Well, it’s not my problem. They can do whatever they want.” Well, many people’s spiritual lives are car wrecks – they are living in sin and their eternal souls are in danger of being lost – can we just pass by without helping them?

            Now, of course, Christian correction is one of the hardest things to do well. If we see our brothers or sisters sinning, how can we offer a word of reproach with the merciful heart of Christ?

            First – we must discern if we are actually called to say something. We’re not called to correct everyone at every moment. Sometimes we’re not the right person to say something. Sometimes the fault is so small that we should overlook it for the time being. Sometimes we may want to help the person grow, but it isn’t the right time. So we have to listen to the Holy Spirit, who will put a burning desire on our heart if we are supposed to speak up.

            Second – we must discern why we want to correct another. Is it because we truly care about them, or because we want to feel superior to them? Is it because their fault is bothering us and so we want to be relieved of their annoying habit? We must make sure we are motivated by love for them and for their soul.

            Third – we ought to cover it all in humility and prayer. Our goal is to change a soul, not win an argument. So we pray that the Holy Spirit may give us the words to speak, and give them the ears and the heart to listen.

            Fourth – we must speak boldly and courageously, but also kindly and mercifully. Humor helps! A friend of mine talks about a “compliment sandwich” – start out by saying something kind about them, then slip in the correction, and close it with another compliment.

            Fifth – we must show them how Christ’s way leads to greater happiness. Every decision we make is because we think it will make us happy, but when we sin we are choosing a counterfeit happiness over a real happiness. We ought to point out how true happiness comes from following the Lord.

            Finally, never forget that even Jesus had people get angry with Him when Our Lord reproached them for their faults. So if it doesn’t go well, don’t be discouraged. We can’t be so concerned about our reputation – or even our relationship with the person – that we stay silent when we are called to speak.

            But with all those caveats, do not be afraid, because sometimes a correction is all someone needs to become a great saint. In the early days of the church there was a young, wealthy, attractive actress named Pelagia. She was the ancient version of a Hollywood star, complete with an entourage and the finest gold and jewelry. One day she was passing through the city, past the cathedral, all decked-out (and quite immodestly dressed), just as a meeting of bishops was concluding. All of the bishops looked away, as her clothing was rather revealing, except for the holy bishop Nonnus, who said, “I am delighted to see such a display!”

            The other bishops were horrified that the holy bishop would delight in such sensuality, but Nonnus continued, “Look how this woman cares far more for her body and for the things of this world than we care for our souls and for the things of eternity!”

            His fellow bishops were shamed, but Pelagia was struck to the heart by his words of reproach. The next Sunday, she secretly attended Bishop Nonnus’ Mass, where he preached about the vanity of this world and the delights of eternity. Once again she was cut to the heart, and asked Nonnus for baptism. She was baptized and changed completely – she freed her slaves, gave her riches to the poor, and began living a life of prayer and works of charity. She is now St. Pelagia – who became a saint because of the courage of a bishop to speak a difficult word to her.

            So do not be afraid. We are called to care for the spiritual well-being of our brothers and sisters, by praying for them, setting a good example, and at times, speaking a word to bring them closer to the Lord.