Here is what we can surmise.
I think this is what explains the discrepancy.
See. Told ya so.
"A [preacher] who does not love art, poetry, music and nature can be dangerous. Blindness and deafness toward the beautiful are not incidental; they are necessarily reflected in his [preaching]." — BXVI
Holy See – online | USCCB – pdf online |
Art. 5, § 1. In paroeciis, ubi coetus fidelium traditioni liturgicae antecedenti adhaerentium continenter exsistit, parochus eorum petitiones ad celebrandam sanctam Missam iuxta ritum Missalis Romani anno 1962 editi, libenter suscipiat. | Art. 5, § 1. In paroeciis, ubi coetus fidelium traditioni liturgicae antecedenti adhaerentium stabiliter existit, parochus eorum petitiones ad celebrandam sanctam Missam iuxta ritum Missalis Romani anno 1962 editi, libenter suscipiat. |
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
St Albert the Great Priory,
Go and do likewise. Let me say out loud what I would be willing to bet most of us are thinking: “I’m not doing that.” Maybe you aren’t being that blunt. Maybe you’re just worried about how difficult a thing it would be to imitate the Samaritan. Or maybe you trying to work it out in our head how you could do what he did without actually getting too involved with the victim himself. I’m willing to bet that some of you are thinking these things b/c every time I read this gospel I think, “I don’t have the time, the money, or the patience to get that involved with someone I don’t even know! And my eternal life depends on this?” I immediately start to think of ways to turn the story into something other than a direct order to serve those most in need. For example, this is some sort of vague tale of angels coming to help men—one of those Feel Good moments when we have to hope on the goodness of the supernatural b/c we can’t trust the natural. But, no matter how hard I try, how hard you try, the story remains…as is.
And I wonder why Jesus tells the story. Of course, he’s instructing the scholar of the law who is worried—as lawyers often are—about his own liability under the Law of Love. The scholar has the philosophy of mercy exactly right. Jesus says, “You have answered correctly…” The more difficult moment, however, comes when he says, “…do this and you will live.” Be merciful and you will have eternal life. Jesus tells this story of compassion b/c he dies on the cross for us all. Everyone. Without a single exception. And he means for us to understand that it is not enough for us to “get” the theology right, to grasp the philosophy correctly. Our merciful intent is a ghost in the brain if it will not animate our hands and hearts. Think: what if Jesus had merely thought about suffering and dying for us. Mused on the idea of saving us. Sat safely under the shade of a fig tree and contemplated the wisdom of offering himself as a victim for our sins. Would we have the Holy Spirit kicking us in the rear, thumping us on the head to go and do likewise? Maybe. But what difference would it make? In fact, how exactly would we be any different than the priest and Levite who see the beaten man and cross the road to avoid him? Caring compassionately for your neighbor is not an abstraction. It is a matter of our salvation. How perfectly inconvenient! What a huge nuance.
Fortunately, we do not have to decide to be merciful all alone. When Jesus says, “Go and do likewise,” he is also saying, “I am with you always.” When he says, “Be merciful and you will live,” he is also saying, “You know what mercy looks like b/c I have been merciful to you.” Indeed, he has rescued us from the pit and now we are freer than ever to help him rescue others. If we have a job description as Christians, it is this: out of the love Christ has shown us, we must love and be merciful.
That is a truly inconvenient truth.
How easy it is for us to be ashamed of our “testimony to our Lord”! Paul admonishes Timothy “not to be ashamed” of the witness he himself makes to the gospel of Christ. Rather than being embarrassed by the prospect of telling others about the Lord’s freely given gift of forgiveness in mercy, Paul urges Timothy to “bear your share of the hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God.” We are either ashamed of the gospel, burdened by the adversity its preaching brings, or we are strengthened, en-joyed, made joyful by the “sound words that [we have] heard from [Paul].” The faith and love that are in Christ Jesus are our inheritance, our trust fund of grace and life, the exceedingly rich treasury of gratuitous help that we receive for no other reason than that our Father is Love and loves us always. Paul goes on to order Timothy to “[g]uard this rich trust with the help of the Holy Spirit that dwells with us.” Reminding, testifying, bearing-up-under, strengthening, hearing and seeing, guarding, and preaching—all of these we do now and tomorrow for the sake of Christ and our eternal lives with him. Thankfully, we do not do any of these alone, none without help. Our help is the Holy Spirit who dwells within us and among us.
Brothers and sisters, we have work to do. And there is no room for a coward’s heart in a soul filled with Spirit!
We have work to do. And with this work, we have the Holy Spirit filling us with the power of the Word Made Flesh, the fire of truthful witness, and the assurances of God’s promises written in stone and flesh. The Spirit dwells in me. In you. In us. Calling Timothy “beloved,” Paul reminds Timothy: “Beloved, I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands.” What is this gift? For the Church, Timothy is a bishop, ordered to apostolic authority by the imposition of Paul’s hands. His gift is the grace of leadership, the gift of standing in front, between what has gone before and what is coming. Timothy is the focal point of salvation history for his local church. He is the crux, the crossroad for what is and what is not authentic testimony, what is and what is not truthful witness. With the Church, Timothy is a man of faith, burning with courage and strength, called to service to the exhaustion of his gifts, and lifted up as one with authority to lead. Timothy is himself a gift to the Church, a grace given to serve us in peril, without profit.
With Timothy’s strength, with Paul’s strength, with all the saints living and dead, and with the unfailing help of the Holy Spirit and the whole Body of Christ, we, cannot fail in preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ. God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather one of power and love. Therefore, to be ashamed of our gospel testimony is to be ashamed of Christ himself. Why would we add this hardship to our burden? We have enough work to do in pursuing holiness, in keeping away from sin, in feeding the hungry and clothing the naked and healing the sick. Why would we do any of this and fail to claim the power and love of the Holy Spirit? Why would we do any of this and fail to dig deeply and excessively into the treasury of graces freely given to us specifically for this purpose? Why would we plow the fields of the world and tend the world’s sheep and do so without humility and eagerly welcoming hearts? Why?
Cowardice, that’s why. Fear of hardship. An aversion to difficulty. A distaste for “offending.” We might be called names. We might be ostracized. People will think we are being exclusive or discriminatory or intolerant. If we make any hard claims about the truths of the gospel, we will be seen as aggressive missionaries, or worse—missionaries of aggressive religion! Thus, we must blend in, mingle, disguise ourselves. If we stand up, stand out, or in any way distinguish ourselves as gospel witnesses, we must be claiming exclusive possession of The Truth. We must be preaching One Way, The Only Way to heaven. We must be vile little buggers who lust to see the heathens burn! If we flinch at these accusations, batting a single eye for a single second, and change one word of the gospel out of fear being called bigots, we are, in fact, cowards; cowards deserving the label.
Now, before any of you think I am calling for the reinstitution of the Inquisition or a rallying of the Crusades, let me say: we work as servants. Not inquisitors. Not soldiers. Servants. We serve. That’s what gospel people do. Secularists expect us to come charging out of Mass with swords drawn and torches lit and force them all to the baptismal font and confessional. My suspicion is that this is exactly what they want us to do, thus confirming their own bigotries and prejudices and giving them every excuse to continue their already well-oiled and ever-so-sophisticated persecution of the Church. No, I’m not being an alarmist. Nor am I issuing warnings or dire cautions against the evils of the secular world. The evil we need to be worrying about lives already in the heart of every man and woman who lays claim to the suffering, death, and resurrection of Christ. Our worst enemy is not the state, not the Supreme Court, not the ACLU, and not other religions. Our worst enemy is the weak heart of compromise, the fainting spirit of accommodation and assimilation. Our worst enemy is the Christian heart that believes its soul is impervious to charitable work. Excused from profitable service and witness. This is the restless heart of a Christian that will not search for and will not find its rest in Love. It cannot. Because it suffocates the Spirit in disobedience and fear.
Ask these hard questions this way: is the Lord to be grateful to us b/c we have done what he has commanded us to do? Is he supposed to pat us on the back and send us on permanent retreat b/c we completed the work we vowed to do at baptism? Because we have said “amen” and “thanks be to God” at Mass? Or, are we to say to our Master, “We are unprofitable servants, Lord; we have done what we were obliged to do”? Even better: we have done what we promised to do because you died for us, making us heirs to your kingdom.
We are already well-paid servants. We’ve used all of our vacation days. All of our comp time and sick days. The Christmas bonus has been given and spent. The heavenly 401K has been cashed. The time clock is still ticking and we haven’t yet punched out. If you are going to be a witness to the gospel out there, then know this: our God did not give you a spirit of cowardice but rather a spirit of power and love and self control. His Word has been proclaimed to you and his Word remains forever.
Brothers and sisters, put on your apron. We have work to do!
Cell phones. PDA’s. Laptops. iPods. Cameras. All devices. And though sometimes wickedly used, they are not wicked in themselves. So, what are the Babylonian captives confessing when they confess that “each one of us went off after the devices of his own wicked heart…”?
When asked how to explain the consequences of mortal sin, Fr. Dominic Holtz, OP, will answer: “You are wicked and become an enemy of God.” Never one to mince words, Fr. Dominic is expressing succinctly what the Babylonian captives are lamenting lavishly. In their stubborn disobedience, they became enemies of God—the God who led them out of slavery in Egypt; the God Who gave them Moses and the promise of a land flowing in milk and honey; the God of their ancestors, He Who made them and fathers them still. They confess: “From the time the Lord led our ancestors out the land of Egypt until the present day, we have been disobedient to the Lord, our God, and only too ready to disregard his voice.” They would not listen…and so they suffer the consequences, becoming enemies of God, each running after “the devices of his own wicked heart.”
Where do our disobedient devices take us? These devices of the wicked heart, where do they leave us? The Babylonian captives confess to serving other gods and doing evil in the sight of the Lord. Am I left serving alien gods and doing evil when I run after the plans, the schemes of my wicked heart? A heart turned from the Lord will not be fed by the Lord. And a heart not fed by the Lord starts to quickly die of starvation and thirst, it will grasp at any spiritual morsel offered by any passing spirit. Having feasted on the Lamb of Heaven, a heart turned from the Lord will be satisified with the cotton candies of New Age “spirituality,” or the junk snacks of secular philosophies, or the Happy Meals the little gods of ego and vice feed it.
We are made for heaven and called to a wonderous life!
Jesus curses Chorazin, Bathsaida, and Capernaum b/c these villages hear his Word but do not listen. Witness his mighty deeds but do not believe. They cannot see His justice, hear His mercy. Therefore, Jesus says, “[They] will go down to the netherworld.” They will live forever as they have chosen to live now: outside the love of God. And so, Psalm 95 warns us, “If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.”
You know as well as I do what plugs our ears and covers our eyes. A need for self-sufficiency. A desire for independence from others. The temptations of hatred, venegance, violence, despair. The seductive call of alien gods—those deities who live and thrive in the love of money, power, prestige, and celebrity. But do we see and hear all of the dangers of this postmodern age? The sinkhole of boredom. The erotic pull of extreme experience. The numbing mantras of moral indifference. All those puny gods that whisper to us: You can be gods w/o God. You have no end, no purpose but the ones you yourself invent, the ones you yourself set up on the altars of ambition and pride. You can be whatever you long to be; do whatever you long to do. Nothing is given, nothing is taken away. You are random bits of genetic material, sequenced for survival and development. Purpose is power and power is wielded by those who will seize the moment and declare themselves gods. Who rules your heart then? Who sits at the center of your being then? Unruly imagination? Destructive passion? Weak compromise? Death?
This disobedience shames those who have eaten the Lamb of Heaven and sends them chasing after the devices of their wicked hearts. Therefore, whoever listens to the witness of the apostles, listens to Christ. Whoever listens to Christ, listens to his Father. Whoever rejects the apostolic witness, rejects Christ. Whoever rejects Christ, rejects His Father. You are hearing His Word today, harden not your hearts.
26th Week OT: Neh 2.1-8 and Luke 9.57-62
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
St Albert the Great Priory,
So, what does it take to say to Christ, “I will follow you wherever you go”?
First, it takes supernatural courage. Courage is the good habit of doing what is right even when we fear for our lives. The amount of courage varies from place to place, from time to time, but the postmodern preacher must have a truly muscular heart! We need courage b/c we must preach a gospel message that runs directly counter to the way we are tempted—by the world—to live our lives. Holiness, not the fake pietistic play-acting junk that’s so popular nowadays but True Holiness, threatens all of our loves, our friendships, our most comforting securities. As holiness matures for us, it invades and defines how we perceive the world, how we take it all in, and ultimately, how we come to serve that world. Jesus says, “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the
Second, following Christ wherever he goes requires a bit of healthy ignorance, a mindset ready to be formed by the darkness of Good Friday and the Cross. How prepared are we to walk behind our Lord on the via dolorosa, enduring the anger and venom of the vengeful crowds, walking through the harassment and harangues of those who would rather see us crucified than victorious? Not knowing the end, being ignorant of what our final witness will be, is the blessing of letting the dead bury the dead. Again, like courage, the degree of ignorance will vary from time to time, place to place. Right here, right now our ignorance is safely tucked away in Christian Texas. But remember: every time you say “amen,” you agree to follow Christ wherever he goes and whenever he chooses to leave!
Third, following Christ wherever he goes requires a large dose of foolish faith. For exactly all of the reasons that such a commitment requires courage and ignorance, it requires that we fall in behind Christ, trusting fully in the Father’s promises of final victory in His glory. But why does the commitment require a “foolish faith”? Like the Fool we cannot worry about what our faith looks like out there. We cannot fret about what the world sees as our dumb trust in magic and ancient myth. These are our feet and our steps, our breath and our YES! If the Son of Man himself has nowhere to rest his head, then why would those who follow him wherever his goes get wound up about what the world calls “foolishness”? Call it wisdom instead and become wise.
When the invitation comes—and it has—giggle hysterically, jump up, embarrass yourself with effusive gratitude, and wave hello and goodbye to the dead who are busy burying the dead. And judge all things as so much rubbish that you may gain Christ and be found in him. Even (and especially) if you will be found nailed to a cross.
You have to imagine the scene clearly. Jesus is praying quietly by himself. His disciples, the twelve and probably a few others, all grown men in their thirties and forties, approach Jesus expectantly. He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and waits for the question. And what cosmos-quaking question do these students of the Anointed Messiah ask their master? What is the nature of peace? Of mercy? How do we live abundantly in poverty? Hunger? No. They want to know who among them will be the greatest in heaven. Ah, it’s about ambition, about being the alpha-dog. You can almost feel the heat from Jesus’ embarrassment and perhaps just a degree or two of his anger. Jesus—no doubt thinking: how do I get through to these thick skulls I’ve chosen to be my apostles?—calls over a child and stands the child in the middle of the group. There’s a tense silence among the nipping canine-disciples, an expectant hush as they wait to hear what incredible nonsense Jesus will try to teach them this time; and Jesus says, “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” I see dumbfounded stares, dropped jaws, disappointment, confusion, all flavored with a bit of frustration and anger. Children!?
Yes, children. Jesus sets a child among them and anoints the child as their exemplar. He puts two conditions on entering heaven in this passage: 1) we must turn and 2) we must become like children. Turning makes perfect sense b/c as adults we would have to make radical changes, turn-a-bouts, in order to arrive back at where we started—innocence, humility, a sense of wonder. Turning is conversion, flipping over, stopping and going in reverse, facing the other direction. What does it mean for us to become like children? No doubt Jesus is pointing out the desirable qualities of a first-century Jewish child. Respect, humility, willingness to serve, eagerness to learn, docility in obedience—all of the qualities we would associate with “good kids.” He is also lifting up in this child those qualities that we sometime leave behind as adults: imagination, wonder, a perfect sense of awe, that ability and willingness to look at the world and live wholeheartedly in joy, overflowing gladness and a complete lack of pretension.
Jesus is telling us that we must become a particular kind of child. We must become small, little; without worldly ambitions, without aggressive pretense or a need for secular approval. He is telling us that we must become who we truly are already: creatures of a Creator, children of the Father. We are to be students, apprentices of charity and grace, interns of eternity. As adults of the twenty-first century, we must become the children of the first. If we would be the greatest, we must be who we truly are: the least. To do this we must turn and turn and turn. Always turning back to our heavenly Father. What else can His favorites do?
Let’s get a definition first. From the Catechism of the Catholic Church (1033), we read: “We cannot unite with God unless we freely choose to love him.” So far, so good. We must choose to love God in order to live with Him forever. Continuing, “But we cannot love God if we sin gravely against him, against our neighbor or against ourselves.” How do we fail to love God? How do we reject His invitation to live with Him forever? We sin against Him, our neighbors (meaning any other human being), and ourselves.
Alright, how do we sin? Let’s read a definition of sin and then return to Hell (no pun!): “Sin is an offense against reason, truth, and right conscience…” When we act against, speak against, desire against reason, truth, and our properly form conscience, we sin. Continuing on: “…[sin is a] failure in genuine love for God and neighbor caused by a perverse attachment to certain goods.” OK. When you are attached viciously (in a manner of a vice, a bad habit) to goods that are not The Good (God), then you fail to give your love to God and to your neighbors. So, loving things or ideas or desires in a way that fundamentally excludes God is a failure in genuine love. And more: “[Sin] wounds the nature of man and injures human solidarity.” When you act against, speak against, and desire against reason, truth, and your rightly formed conscience, you wound or injure your very nature; in other words, you damage that which makes you loveable to God and the rest of us—your creaturliness, your nature as a redeemed child of the Father. One more: “[Sin] sets itself against God’s love for us and turns our hearts away from [God’s love]…Sin is thus (according to
Now, back to Hell. Remember: we cannot be united with God if we sin against Him, neighbor, or self. The CCC continues: “Our Lord warns us that we shall be separated from him if we fail to meet the serious needs of the poor and the little ones who are his brethren.” This is straight from Matthew’s gospel: feed the hungry, clothe the naked, heal the sick, visit the imprisoned. (Matt 25.31-46). More: “[To die in sin] without repenting or accepting God’s merciful love means remaining separated from him forever by [your] own free choice.” That is, if you leave this life having lived apart from God—His love, His mercy—and you leave this life having failed to help those in need, you will live in eternity in exactly the same way you lived this life: separated from God. Hell, therefore, “[is the state] of definitive self-exclusion from communion with God and the blessed…” Did you hear that? Hell is the definitive self-exclusion from an eternal life with God and His saints. SELF-exclusion. You put yourself in Hell. God wants you in heaven with Him. Why would He put you Hell? Answer: He wouldn’t. Or rather: He won’t!
Paul tells Timothy: “Lay hold of eternal life, to which you are called when you made the noble confession in the presence of many witnesses.” You do this by pursuing “righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, and gentleness.” Paul urges Timothy: “Compete well for the faith.” The better translation reads: “Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life, to which you were called and for which you were made.” Did you hear that? You are made to live with God forever! God created you, created all of us in such a way that we can live beyond this life of flesh and blood, beyond our sin, beyond death itself—we can live with Him in “unapproachable light.”* But we cannot live with Him if we sin. Not now and not forever.
The Rich man in Luke’s gospel finds himself suffering torment in the flames of Hell. Why? Because he was rich? No. Because he wore purple garments and ate sumptuously on fine linen? No and no. Because he drove a Land Rover? Wore Gucci and Donna Karan? Vacationed in
Now this is the point in the homily where I am supposed to guilt you into giving money to charity or volunteering at the homeless shelter. Do I need to do that? No. We Catholics are famous for our works of mercy. If you aren’t giving money to charity or volunteering to help the poor, start now. No, I don’t want to guilt you into service. Rather I want to make sure you have heard the subtext of this homily—and for that matter, the plain text of our Mass readings. I’ll say it clearly so there is no confusion: God does not want you in Hell. God made you and me to live with Him. He called us to lives of righteousness. He sent His only Son to die for us so that we can live with Him forever. He does everything in His power to seduce us into a life of Love with Him…everything, that is, except take away our free choice and turn us into programmed androids. He loves us so much that He will respect our freedom to reject Him and honor our decision to live without Him. In other words, God will love us straight into Hell. But please, please hear this: He does not want us in Hell nor will He just randomly toss us into Hell. That’s our choice. Not His. A mature relationship with the Father is rooted in His love for us—He loved us first and loves us last—and we come to the fullness of our humanity when we take His love for us and spread it around.
Finally, God is not hiding behind your bathroom door just waiting for you to sin. He is not under your bed taking notes and hoping you “go too far.” He is not floating above your car praying that you will slip up and cuss someone in traffic so He can crash your car in punishment. Ours is not a GOTCHA God who lurks in dark places just hoping we will mess up so He can get us. Nor is he a petty little god of tiny faults and minute flaws, hungry for theological error and spiritual laziness. This kind of god does not provide a way out nor does he/she open avenues of forgiveness and blessing. This kind of god does not bother to care for his/her wicked creatures, but focuses his/her energy on the Bright and
For the sake of your spiritual maturity, please move beyond the god of constant surveillance, beyond the god of terrible Gotcha’s, beyond the god of retribution and blood. Move toward the God of Christ, the God who sent His only child, His son, to die for us once on the cross. We are free from sin in his death and resurrection. We are freed, we are free in his one sacrifice for us. Fight the good fight of the faith not the already, always lost battle of “do-it-yourself” salvation. You didn’t create yourself, so you can’t re-recreate yourself. Choose now to love as you are loved and choose against Hell itself.
*For reasons known only to God and my misfiring synapses, I pronounced this as "irreproachable." There is no such word. Duh.
Notice that the Crowds say that Jesus is just some ancient prophet risen again. And, despite the fact that Jesus asks all of the disciples the question at hand—who do you say that I am?—it is Peter alone who answers, “The Christ of God.” But for this correct answer Jesus rebukes them all and silences them! Why? At the exact point where his less than brilliant students finally get that he is who he says he is—the Messiah, the Christ—Jesus not only orders them to silence but chastises them for knowing the truth. Again, why?
Jesus knows that the Party is long from over. In fact, he knows how the whole thing ends and says so: betrayal, arrest, trial, rejection by the chief priests, execution, and resurrection—third-day-dead. He knows all of this. And he knows that Peter, the one with all the correct answers, will deny him over and over and over again. And he knows that he will go to his execution alone. That he must go alone—without his friends, without his fans, without his family. No crowding followers. No mobs of zealous converts trying to rescue him. No bloody riots in his name. Just a shameful death on a cross. The Christ of God dying—beaten and abandoned—on a cross.
Why couldn’t that be John on that cross, or Elijah, or Peter himself? Why didn’t the Romans and temple authorities arrest Jesus’ students and hang them up as well? His family? Why didn’t the whole lot of them meet their gruesome end as theological subversives, or liberating guerillas fighting against
Jesus is the Christ of God. He is the only one who could die on the cross for us. We cannot say that Jesus is only one Christ among many. Though we can say that we are all Christs in the world because he was Christ first. We cannot say that Jesus is one incarnation of divinity among many. Though we can say that we are all being perfected in divinity because the Son became flesh first. We cannot say that Jesus is just one man among many, dead on a cross, and risen again for our eternal lives. Though we can say that we have all died with him, and we will rise with him because he died for us and rose for us first.
The crowds still say that he is a prophet, a teacher, an avatar, a buddha of sorts. Peter says, even now, and we say with him still, “Jesus is the Christ of God!”
With what do you listen? Eyes? Nose? Of course not! Ears? Maybe but no good. An opened-mind? Better but still not good enough. A contrite heart? Closer, much closer but not quite there yet. Hint: take care how you hear because “there is nothing hidden that will not become visible and nothing secret that will not be known and come to light.” Visible. Light. So, we do hear with our eyes after all! No. Eyes see. Ears hear. How you hear is the work of the Spirit—the Light of heaven shining to you, through you, and out of you “so that those who enter may see the light.” So, we have been given the Light to shine to others? Yes. Shine it for others and more light will given to you. Bundle it away under a vessel—say, fear of mockery, hoarding greed, or useless anxiety—and what little light you have will be taken away. Use it or lose it, right? Right. Begging to live in the Light of Heaven and then hiding it once you have received it is something No One does. And he who is No One is not someone you want to be. No One will whisper to you that you are being prideful when you shine out Heaven’s Light for others to see; that you are bragging about living in the Light; that you should be more humble, much quieter, less attention-seeking. It’s all about the Light, right? Yes. But the Light shines out through you to others. Without you that particle of Light, that wave of Light that you have been given will not shine. It is lost under the lie of No One. Take care, then, how you hear. Hear with a spirit longing to shine. Hear with the spirit of Someone who longs to glorify Light Himself.
Feeding the Fire Who loves you into His beautiful presence, burn yourself to cinder and ash.
Here’s a basic spiritual principle that you can apply to your living out the faith day-to-day: I am now and will become that which I love most. So, one way to figure out what you want to be when you grow up is to figure out who or what it is that you love most. The underlying theological truth here is that since God holds us in being and since God is love, then it is love that holds us in being and love that defines our existence fundamentally. How we choose to participate in the love that is God is a decision about how we will shape, express, and nurture love for God, self, and others. In other words, what or who you choose to love most now is who or what you will become…eventually. Love God most, become God. Love money most, become money. Love sex most, become sex. Though this may sound appealing at first glance, please keep in mind: vanity, vanity, all is vanity…except Truth, Goodness, and Beauty—that is, God. So, whatever/whoever you choose to love and eventually become, make sure that that What or Who is permanent, everlasting, eternal b/c choosing anything less is the first choice you will make for your inevitable annihilation. Just ask yourself: do I want to become something or someone that will or who will die, rot, and never rise again?
Before moving to the gospel, let’s make a quick stop in the Psalms to shore up this basic teaching about superlative love and our existential future. Psalm 115 starts with a question from the enemies of God and ends with a profound insight into human nature: “Why should the nations say, ‘Where is their God?’/Our God is in heaven; whatever God wills is done./Their idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands./They have mouths but do not speak, eyes but do not see./They have ears but do not hear, noses but do not smell./They have hands but do not feel, feet but do not walk, and no sound rises from their throats./Their makers shall be like them, all who trust in them.” The idols have all of the features we have as humans (eyes, ears, noses), but they do not have life. They have no souls, no spirit; they are dead matter and without love. As the psalmist makes clear: if you love these idols, these lifeless statues, then you too become lifeless, without a soul, unable to love—the makers of idols, all who trust in the idols, will become their idols, their gods. Our God is in heaven—permanent, eternal, loving, and merciful—and so our destination, if we love God most, is a permanent, eternal, loving, and merciful life in heaven.
From psalmist to evangelist—St. Luke, specifically. In this gospel, Jesus says to his disciples: “No servant can serve two masters…You cannot serve both God and Mammon.” The standard read on this teaching, and the standard homily derived from it, focuses on not becoming too attached to material goods—Mammon being the pagan god of wealth and all. A perfectly good approach. However, I want to bring in the prophet Amos and then go in another direction. Amos warns: “Hear this! you who trample upon the needy and destroy the poor of the land!” Who is he shouting at? Amos is shouting at those who will, after the festivals of the New Moon, begin to cheat the poor of the little that they have by rigging their scales and selling the refuse of the wheat. To them the Lord through Amos says, “…by the pride of Jacob: Never will I forget a thing [you] have done!” And just to emphasize this warning to those who would cheat the poor, the Church places Psalm 113 right next to this reading. Our response to this psalm: “Praise the Lord, who lifts up the poor!”
Let me ask you again: what do you want to be when you grow up? Listen again to what the psalmist sings this evening: “The Lord raises up the lowly from the dust; from the dunghill he lifts up the poor/to seat them with princes, with the princes of his own people./Praise the Lord, who lifts up the poor!” Now, by show of hands: who here wants to grow up to be among the poor? Exactly! It’s not the first choice of many. But it will be the last choice of those who remain. How can I say such a thing? “No servant can serve two masters…You cannot serve both God and Mammon.” Who will be the Master of your life? In more contemporary terms: who will you choose to be your Teacher? Will you choose to love most Wealth and take your lessons, get your education from earthly treasure? Or will you choose God to love most and take your most basic education from the One Who made you and loves you most? I doubt anyone here is going to shout, “Oh! I choose Mammon!” But do you choose Mammon in quieter, more subtle ways?
Let’s see. Who is Mammon? Yes, “who.” Mammon is a “who,” a noun; he is a demon, in fact, mentioned by St. Thomas Aquinas: "Mammon being carried up from Hell by a wolf, coming to inflame the human heart with Greed.”
Lets’ go back to our basic spiritual principle: I am now and will become that which I love most. Given everything said here tonight: what do you want to be when you grow up? Are you ready right now to pray to God to put you among the poor? How ridiculous, Father! We’re students…we can’t get any poorer! Ah, but you see: that’s just a delirium brought on by all those Ramen noodles you’re been eating. You can be poorer. Much poorer. You could empty yourself entirely for another. You could give your life for a friend. You could die on a cross for your worst enemy. You could be starved to death in the
One more time: who do you love most? Love Love Himself and become Love for others—emptying yourself on the cross you have been given, using the gifts with which you have been graced. Anything, anyone less than this is to squander your inheritance as a child of God; you trash that which makes you loveable, you spit on the image and likeness of God Himself; to love anything, anyone less than God Himself—to serve a Master smaller and weaker, to take your education from a Teacher who will not die for you, who did not die for you—is to choose a life of folly; it is the choice to live your life as an enormous fool. You cannot serve two Masters. Nor can you love two Masters. Nor can you grow up to be both of those Masters. You will grow up to be one or the other. Choose then to be counted among the poor, those who have nothing but Christ and will die for everything they have.