NB. Deacon is preaching tonight at OLR. Here's one from 2012. . .right after Hurricane Isaac.
22nd Sun OT 
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP 
St. Dominic Church, NOLA
When our power went out last Tuesday around five o'clock, I gave a 
mighty sigh and prepared myself for a day or two of no A/C, no hot 
water, no lights.  Like any good Dominican would, I went to my bookshelf
 and asked, “What does one read while a hurricane rages outside?”  I 
rejected poetry—too ethereal for a storm.  I rejected current 
events—what can I do about Iran's nuclear build-up or the collapse of 
the Eurozone during a hurricane?  I rejected theology—that's too much 
like work for a priest. That left philosophy. It took me about two 
minutes to find William Barrett's classic 1958 study of European 
existentialism.  Given that Isaac was slowing reducing New Orleans to a 
Stone Age village, the title of his book seemed more than appropriate, Irrational Man.
  (After four days w/o A/C and a hot shower, “irrational man” pretty 
much describes me to a tee)!  Barrett argues that as a philosophy 
outside the mainstream western obsession with science and technology, 
existentialism challenges the human soul to face the deeply abiding 
problems of what it means to exist, to simply Be.  He writes, “A single 
atmosphere pervades [all truly human problems] like a chilly wind: the 
radical feeling of human finitude”(36).  At the root of being human is 
the gnawing truth that we are limited, impermanent.  The Psalmist 
rebuts, “One who does justice will live in the presence of the Lord.”  
Living in the presence of the Lord is the Father's promise to His 
children; it is the one hope that keeps crippling despair at bay. If we 
cannot and do not live with one another in the hope of the resurrection,
 then the oppressive weight of our mortality, the various spiritual 
diseases of our finitude can and will crush us, leaving us broken and 
dying.  Barrett notes that as modern men and women we are confronted by a
 curious problem:  as citizens of an increasingly secular culture we 
have come face-to-face with this “radical feeling of human finitude” at a
 time when our science and technology promise us nearly limitless 
knowledge, nearly limitless control.  IOW, as our culture abandons the 
possibility of life beyond death (abandons God) and falls into mortal 
despair, we find some glimmer of hope in the power we possess to 
manipulate our physical world through the tools of material science.  
Our hope is not in the name of the Lord; our hope is in the name of 
Genetics, Physics, Chemistry, Nanotechnology—a pantheon for 21st century
 man, these are the gods who will save our bodies but cannot save our 
souls.  The Psalmist patiently reminds us, “One who does justice will 
live in the presence of the Lord.” 
So, you must be wondering:  what does the fragility of human life and 
our deeply seated fear of nothingness have to do with this morning's 
gospel?  Where's the Good News among the bad?  The Good News is that 
even as we lament the death of our innocence in the face of war, 
terrorism, and natural disaster; even as we mourn the loss of reason's 
rule in our politics, our universities, and our media; even as we cry 
over the impoverishment of our collective imagination to exclude God, 
the saints, angels, demons, miracles, and the promise of eternal life 
after death; even as we surrender—as a culture—to the idolatrous 
practice of depending on science and technology to grant us hope for the
 future, the Good News remains constant, steadfast: we are creatures, 
crafted beings, drawn from the dust of the earth and given life by a God
 Who loved us at our creation, loves us now, and will always love us.  
This truth is not “worn over” creation like a garment but woven into 
everything and everyone that exists. God spoke the Word “Love” and we 
are. And nothing—not economic crises, not princes nor presidents; not 
wars, terrorist bombs, plagues; not science, technology, genetics; not 
even hurricanes can change the fundamental constitution of God's 
creation: we live, move, and have our being in Love. 
That's the Good News.  Now that we know the Good News, what do we do 
about it?  Barrett argues that modern man's confrontation with the 
“radical feeling of human finitude” has hobbled us with indecision and 
angst—a deadly moral impotence that allows violence and power to thrive 
in the vacuum abandoned by Christian virtue.  Once upon a time, no one 
in the West denied the existence of God. They argued over His nature, 
His attributes, His will; but no one argued for atheism. Flowing 
naturally from a belief in the reality of God came a belief in the 
natural law—that all things were created to become perfect in 
themselves.  From revelation and the natural law we derived the virtues,
 those good human habits that define us as loving creatures living in 
community.  And from the virtues we derived natural human rights and 
legislated through our kings, parliaments, and congresses laws to uphold
 justice and peace.  When a human law violated the natural law, we 
rebelled and overthrew the human law.  There is no moral obligation to 
obey an unjust law. In fact, there is a moral obligation to disobey an 
unjust law.  Justice always trumps the merely legal. 
What does the Good News tell us to do?
 Jesus shames the Pharisees for imposing unjust rules and regulations on
 their people.  He quotes Isaiah, “This people honors me with their 
lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, 
teaching as doctrines human precepts.” Then he adds, “You disregard 
God's commandment but cling to human tradition.”  Why is their worship 
vain?  The honor they pay to God is from their lips not their hearts. 
The Pharisees have abandoned hope and embraced regulation; they've 
surrendered to the lazy spirituality of following rules, thus giving up 
on the hard work of actually loving one another.  Jesus goes to the root
 of the problem, saying, “Nothing that enters one from outside can 
defile that person; but the things that come out from within are what 
defile.”  A hardened heart, a heart that has willed itself closed to 
love will produce “evil thoughts, unchastity, theft, murder, adultery, 
greed, malice, deceit, licentiousness, envy, blasphemy, arrogance, 
folly.” These are the sins that kill a soul, that murder charity and 
turn us away from God.  James reminds us of our origins, “[The Father] 
willed to give us birth by the word of truth that we may be a kind of 
firstfruits of his creatures.”  We are born of truth and from truth 
justice flows.  We are the firstfruits, the first born from His justice.
  And it is God's justice that stands with us when human finitude 
threatens us with despair. 
The Psalmist sings, “One who does justice will live in the presence of 
the Lord.”  The Goods New of Jesus Christ does not urge us to do 
justice.  We are not encouraged or hectored to do justice.  We are given
 a simple, elegant choice:  do justice and live in the presence of the 
Lord, or don't.  If we love the Lord and love him in service to one 
another, then justice abides where love prevails.  The despair that 
might dawn on us when we come to realize our mortality, our finitude is 
nothing when set side-by-side with the promise of eternal life.  Barrett
 is right:  modern western men and women are besieged by the problems of
 that arise when they rapidly and recklessly abandon of God.  As lovers 
of God and followers of His Christ, we are gathered and sent to be 
missionaries, living reminders that though human beings are finite 
creatures, we are not yet perfect, not yet made perfect.  When we love 
and act lovingly; when we hope and live hopefully; when we trust God and
 demonstrate that trust, our creaturely limits are defeated, and God 
receives the glory. So, “humbly welcome the word that has been planted 
in you,” and in justice, see God's will done. 
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