Um, there may be a problem with our coffee. . .

No need to panic. . .breathe, breathe, breathe. . .don't panic, don't panic. . .

GUATEMALA CITY (AP) — Guatemala's president declared a national emergency Friday over the spread of coffee rust, saying the fungus that has hit other Central American countries is affecting 70 percent of this nation's crop.

IT'S A COFFEE EMERGENCY!!!!

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Go out into the Deep!

5th Sunday OT 2013
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
St. Dominic Church/Our Lady of the Rosary

When it comes to doing His will, God pays careful attention to our faithfulness, our strength, our perseverance. He smiles on our hope, our humility, and our willingness to sacrifice for others in love. These He nurtures toward excellence and rewards with perfecting graces. When we fall short of being faithful, strong, hopeful, or humble, He hears our petitions for assistance and help will arrive. However, when we try to excuse our failures, or justify our unwillingness to serve, or claim some sort of debilitating brokenness, we get the booming chirping of celestial crickets. Nothing. Or, if we are being particularly stubborn, we get the kind of help that Isaiah, Paul, and Simon Peter get. We get all of our excuses handled by divine intervention, and our mission as apostles grows in proportion to the intervention required to fix us. Our Lord says to his Church, “Put out into the deep!” Do we obey and plead for his help? Or do we wail excuses? Are we fearful and plead helplessness? Or are we faithful? Jesus says to Simon Peter, and to us, “Do not be afraid.” Leave everything and follow him. 

Our readings this morning/evening bear witness to three biblical legends: Isaiah, Paul, and Simon Peter. All three find themselves confronted by the glory of the Lord; all three hear His call to service; and all three serve up pitiful excuses for their initial failure to receive God's commission. Isaiah, upon seeing the glory of God, wails and whines in fear of death b/c no sinful man may see God and live. Paul reminds the Corinthians that he was “born abnormally” as an apostle and is not fit to be an apostle b/c he persecuted the Church. And Simon Peter fails to believe that Jesus will be able to help him with the catch. When he pulls up his full-to-bursting nets, he falls at Christ's feet, wailing, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” Each of these men starts out as a pitiful sinner—a coward, an enemy of the Church, and a weary unbeliever. However, having wailed their excuses, God takes all that they are and graces them with all that they need to become a prophet, a preacher, and an apostle. The Lord wills that they “put out into the deep” of this world and fish for souls. He fixes their brokenness and multiplies the gravity of their mission in proportion to the blessings they require. Each one is astonished by the Lord's generosity. And in gratitude receives his godly commission. 

Christ says to his Church, “Put out into the deep!” Do we obey and ask for his help? Or do we wail excuses? We could, like Isaiah, spend copious amounts of time and energy nursing our sins, crying over our failures, and raising these up to God as excuses for our inability to go out into the world as apostles for the Good News. How can we bear witness to God's mercy when we ourselves are so dirty with sin? Or, we could, like Paul, see ourselves as “abnormally born,” that is, brought into the family of God from another church or another faith, and then claim that our unusual entrance into Christ's body disqualifies us from being proper preachers of the Gospel. I wasn't raised in the Church, what can I do for the faith? Or, we could, like Simon Peter, live as weary unbelievers, ever doubtful of Christ's power, and then ashamed of our unbelief when he shows us what he can do. I denied Christ too many times, I'm unworthy of serving him as an apostle! We could refuse, deny, demur, disbelieve, and beat ourselves up. But Christ says, “Do not be afraid! Leave everything and follow me.” Leave doubt, leave self, leave sin, leave the past. Leave it all and follow me. 

Isaiah leaves his history of sin behind when the seraphim purges his mouth with the ember from God's altar. Paul leaves his history of vengeful persecution of the Church behind when Christ appears to him on the Damascus Road. Simon Peter leaves his long and stubborn history of faithlessness and betrayal behind when he is consumed in the fire of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Isaiah hears the Lord ask, “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?” Purged of his sin, Isaiah shouts like a schoolboy, “Here I am, send me!” Paul sheds the scales from his eyes and receives his commission to bring the Good News to the Gentiles, confessing, “. . .by the grace of God I am what I am.” And Simon Peter, upon seeing the haul in his nets, confesses his unbelief, and receives from Christ himself an encouraged heart that will grow large enough to receive the love of the Holy Spirit. Each abandoned his history of disobedience; each leaves behind every obstacle, every trial, every excuse; and each follows the Lord in His will to become prophetic and preaching legends for God's people. They put out into the deep, and brought to the Lord a great haul of souls. 

Time and physical distance are no measures for Christ. His words to Peter on the boat are spoken directly to us, each one of us: “Put out into the deep. . .do not be afraid.” As this world grows older and its spiritual and moral foundations become more and more fragile, our hold on things true, good, and beautiful seems to grow more and more precarious. We don't need to recite the litany of sins our culture of death revels in. It's the same list Isaiah, Paul, and Peter knew so well. It's the same list that ancient Israel and Judah knew. It's the same list the serpent wrote in the Garden and the same list men have been carrying around for millennia. That list tells us how to degrade and destroy the dignity of the human person, the image and likeness of God that each one us shares in, the imago Dei that makes us perfectable in Christ. It is the mission of the Enemy to tempt us into racial suicide, to kill ourselves as the human race by separating ourselves—one soul at a time—from our inheritance in the Kingdom. The Deep that we are commanded to evangelize is at once both the individual human heart and the whole human community. And lurking in that Deepness is both Eden's serpent and Christ's cross, both the voice of rebellion against God and the instrument of sacrifice for God. Christ says, “Do not be afraid.” 

Whether we find the serpent or the cross or both dwelling in the Deep, we must not be afraid. The serpent was defeated the moment he chose to rebel. Sin and death were crushed from eternity before the first human walked upright. So, we can meet the serpent without fear. We can also meet the cross without fear b/c it is through the cross that the serpent is defeated. When we put out into the Deep of the human heart and the human community, there is nothing there for us to fear. Our job is a simple one: fish. Cast nets with service, humility, mercy, and joy. Bait our hooks with all the gifts we have been given to use for the greater glory of God. Leave behind bitterness, resentment, jealousy, and wrath. Follow Christ in strength, persistence, faithfulness, gladness, and sacrifice. Leave behind worry, doubt, fear, and hostility. Follow Christ in thanksgiving, rejoicing, praise, and courage. Now is not the time for cowardice. Now is not the time for waffling or compromise. We have our orders: put out into the deep! Risk, challenge, venture out. Hold fast to Peter's boat and cast your net wide and deep. Isaiah, Paul, and Peter made their excuses before God. He smiled and made them into prophets and preachers. So, go ahead: make your excuses. And watch God do His marvelous work through you. 

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Foolishness follows fear

4th Week OT (F)
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Our Lady of the Rosary, NOLA

Like any one of us who fall into sin, Herod's devolution into foolishness starts with pride. Salome the Dancer, and her mother, Herodias, take advantage of Herod's pride and lust and turn his generosity into murder. They succeed because Herod is ruled by anxiety and fear. Why else does a powerful king keep a holy and righteous man in prison? Fear makes us foolish, and foolishness is and always will be the enemy of God's wisdom. 

John persists in preaching against Herod's adultery. The king imprisons John, keeping him close but also preventing him from preaching against Herod publicly. We can almost hear Herod's internal conflict. God's wisdom and the king's conscience draw Herod to John's preaching, but power, lust, and misplaced generosity prevent him from choosing wisdom over foolishness. Having consistently chosen to accomplish apparently good ends by evil means, Herod reaches a point where Salome and Herodias tip the scale and the king murders John, becoming, in this deadly choice, a Royal Fool. 

Herod's fall into darkness shows us that fools are made not born. In fact, fools are self-made, constructed, if you will, out of pride, and played by men and women who once listened to wisdom. If Herod's power and pride started his decline, then fear accelerated it, and lust and hard-heartedness sealed the deal. Like all of our moral choices, vice is a habit: we choose again and again to call evil Good. Over time, we are no longer capable of recognizing the Good and come to believe that in choosing Evil we are choosing Good. Herod believes that keeping John in prison prevents political unrest. Even though he is distressed by Salome's request for John's head on a platter, Herod justifies the prophet's execution as an act of fidelity to his oath, fearing embarrassment if he breaks it. The king is motivated at every decision-point by vicious habits and these habits take him—step by step—right into moral foolishness. 

Hearing, seeing, and doing God's wisdom are all habits: choices and actions we must take one at a time, step by step. Each decision we make brings us closer to foolishness or closer to wisdom. If living in God's wisdom is your goal, then let your prayer be: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear? The Lord is my life’s refuge; of whom should I be afraid?” Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. 

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How must we be poor?

4th Week of OT (Th)
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
St. Dominic Church, NOLA

Jesus spends a lot of his time with the disciples teaching them the basic truths of the Good News. None of what he teaches them could be called “systematic theology” or “philosophical theology.” If we just have to have a label to apply, we could use “biblical theology” or “biblical wisdom.” At his arrival among us as the Word made flesh, Jesus fulfills all of the Old Covenant's obligations and promises. So, the content of his teaching is basically The How of how he fulfills these obligations and promises. How does he teach this? Word and deed. He preaches and acts as the Messiah. Truly, all he needs to do is travel around letting folks know that his Father's kingdom is coming and that they all need to repent of their sins and receive His mercy. Jesus is ever the practical teacher, ever mindful of his students and how they learn. He preaches parables not lectures; he performs miracles not arguments; he lives the Good News. His instructions to the disciples in this evening's gospel reading bear all this out. He gives them practical wisdom for spreading the Good but-not-so-easily received News. 

When Jesus sends his disciples out into the world two by two to preach the Good News, he sends them out with next to nothing: “no food, no sack, no money in their belts.” They could take sandals, a walking stick, and one tunic. Nothing else. They were to follow local guest customs; cast out unclean spirits; anoint the sick; and preach repentance in preparation for the coming of the Kingdom. What's striking about these instructions is the paucity of possessions they are allow to take. Some have argued that apostolic poverty is a condition for preaching the Gospel. You must be truly materially poor—imitating our Lord—in order to preach with authority. Others have argued that apostolic poverty is simply a means to an end. Less stuff, fewer worries on the road; fewer worries, more time to preach and minister. Historically, the Franciscans see true poverty as an end in itself. Dominicans, however, see poverty as a means, a tool for evangelization. We could say that whether the poverty Jesus requires of his disciples is a means or an end, what counts is the result of the preaching. His practical wisdom is both practical and wise. Just as Jesus himself is the Good News, his apostles (then and now) share in his mission and ministry and embody the virtues of the biblical wisdom he teaches. 

How we present ourselves as apostles while preaching the Good News is vital to the message. Yes, less stuff on the road equals fewer worries and leaves more time to minister. And, yes, being truly poor can deepen one's humility, one's dependence on God's providence. But how does the practice of apostolic poverty among Christ's 21st century disciples help spread the Good News? Few of us practice the kind of apostolic poverty that Jesus requires of his 1st century disciples. That kind of poverty won't get us far in a capitalist culture dominated by a Protestant work ethic. A culture where “being poor” is thought to result from laziness. Our poverty will need to be a different sort. In order to successfully preach the Good News in postmodern America, we must be impoverished of despair and rich in hope; poor in apathy and rich in love; profoundly broke in mistrust, greed, anger and rich in faith, generosity, and hospitality. In other words, we must adopt and live-out the poverty of Self that Christ himself lived for others. We have nothing to be despairing about; nothing to be angry about; nothing that is our own to hoard; and we have everything we have from God to give and see multiplied in the giving. Like Christ, we give it all and receive it all back in ridiculous abundance! 

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That no one may be deprived

St. Paul Miki & Companions
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
St. Dominic Church, NOLA

Our Lord leaves his hometown amazed by the lack of faith among his neighbors. They doubt his claim to be the Messiah; they doubt his power to heal; they doubt his prophetic wisdom. Their doubt leaves Jesus amazed and their town bereft of miracles. When doubt amounts to nothing more than a willful refusal to believe for the sake of not believing, it amounts to a sin. Not all doubting is sinful; in fact, a healthy skepticism is often an excellent ally in our growth toward perfect holiness. What distinguishes Sinful Doubt from Healthy Doubt is the intent of the doubter; that is, how you answer the question “Why are you doubting?” is vital. The people of Nazareth doubt Jesus for no other reason than that he is a hometown boy. They know his mama and daddy. They remember him as a kid. And now here he is acting like a prophet sent from God Almighty! Their obstinate pride obstructs their belief, and they suffer for it. Had they set aside their contempt for familiarity and taken the time to listen and observe, they would've heard the Father's wisdom and witnessed His holy power. Had they disciplined their hearts and minds to seeking out the truth, they would've flourished in miracles. 

Nowadays, the practice of any sort of discipline would be miraculous in itself. We live a culture where opinion is fact; illusion is reality; and the news is stage-managed by partisan spin-doctors. Seeking out the truth among the ruins of our postmodern landscape takes more than just a steely discipline; it requires a willingness to be martyred for the sake of the search. It requires a heroic struggle against that most basic of human vices: pride. That dark, primal instinct to think of oneself as entirely self-sufficient, entirely autonomous, and liberated from both God and man. Searching for the truth—and its siblings, goodness and beauty—is a humble discipline; or more precisely, the discipline of humility. That bright, alien virtue of thinking of oneself as entirely dependent, wholly needful of divine assistance and the companionship of others. Being disciplined by humility in the search for truth is a dangerous adventure, especially when the truth one seeks points to Christ. Just ask any Christian martyr, any witness to the mercy of God who's bled as a testimony to that truth. As the ruins of our culture are ground to dust, who among us will embrace the discipline of humility and give witness to the truth that Christ died to reveal? 

The Nazarenes doubt their native son and fail to receive the revelation he came to give them. They defend their ignorance with pride, and so, their miracles are given to those who humble themselves and ask for the truth. Maybe they see the consequences of knowing Christ. Maybe they understand that humility in the service of divine love means committing oneself to the spread and nurturing of that love. And maybe they suspected that spreading and nurturing divine love among the prideful would result in violence and death. Hebrews admonishes them and us, “In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding blood. . .Endure your trials as 'discipline'. . .” In our struggles against the sins of personal and cultural pride, have we resisted to the point of shedding blood, our blood? Have we stood up for truth, Christ's truth, and bled to share his revelation of God's mercy to sinners? Have we shed pride, arrogance, ignorance, and shame and testified to the truth of God's unconditional offer of forgiveness? Have we endured the trials that come with following Christ, gladly receiving his discipline and sharing the lesson? If not, hear again the admonishment from Hebrews, “See to it that no one be deprived of the grace of God. . .” 

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Evangelical Catholicism

Kathryn Lopez of NRO interviews George Weigel about his new book, Evangelical Catholicism.

Here's one excerpt: 

LOPEZ: Why do “twenty-first century Christophobes” fear Christ? 

WEIGEL: The secular Christophobes of the West fear Christ because they imagine him to be an enemy of autonomy, which they define as the highest of human values. But this rather misses the point: autonomy for what? The sandbox of solipsism, the playpen of self-absorption, can get rather lonely after awhile. When honest secularists recognize that loneliness in themselves, the hand of Christ will be there to lift them out of the sandbox or playpen and into a maturity and happiness built, not from “autonomy,” but from living a commitment to truth and with compassion for others. And that hand of Christ will be extended by the people of the Church, who are, in Pius XII’s wonderful image, Christ’s “mystical body” in the world. 

Read the whole thing. . .it is WELL worth your time!

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Coffee Cup Browsing

A headline to give an OP friar a fright! (clutching chest/wiping brow)

Wow.  Something goes right in P.C. infested Canada

Good news! Nobel Peace Prize winner says killing Americans with drones is just dandy!

Note to Cardinal Mahony: Bishops are shepherds of souls, not therapists.

Psychoanalyzing the Left. . .fascinating article.

Mass delayed for 2hrs. . .laity refuse to bring up the gifts!
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Chained among the dead no longer

4th Week OT (M)
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
St. Dominic Church, NOLA

Jesus exorcises a man possessed by demons, sending the unclean spirits into a herd of swine. For your growth in holiness, it makes no real difference how you choose to think about that Legion of unclean spirits. You can think of them in 1st century terms: they are fallen angels sent to rule the earth and tempt men and women away from righteousness. Or 21th century terms: they are manifestations of our animal impulses toward violence, passion, and the survival instinct, lingering in the unconscious to keep us uncivilized. It doesn't really matter how we think about the unclean spirits b/c whether we see them as fallen angels or animal impulses, their influence on our growth in holiness is always the same. Like the man possessed by Legion, these unclean spirits, if allowed free reign in our hearts and minds, keep us living among the tombs, dwelling among the corpses, and rotting right along side them. God did not create us to die and rot. He created us and holds us in being so that we might live an eternal life with him. His only Son comes to wash us clean of our unclean spirits so that all righteousness with Him is fulfilled. What unclean spirits—fallen angels or animal impulses—chain you among the dead? 

For reasons both sociological and ideological, it has been theologically unfashionable for the last 50 yrs or so to talk much about unclean spirits, demons, angels, and most especially, sin. But it's more than a little difficult to preach the Good News of God's freely given mercy to sinners if we can't talk about sin. And to talk about sin we need to be able to talk about temptation, disobedience, and what it means to participate in the New Covenant with Christ. One reason that sin has fallen out of fashion is that too often in the past we failed to make the proper distinction btw The Sin and The Sinner, leading some to judge and condemn the sinner along with the sin. Making the distinction btw Sin and Sinner is not an excuse to be “holier than thou” w/o appearing to be—it's a real distinction made to mark a real difference. Sinners are always persons first and last. Sin attaches to the person through the deliberate choice to be disobedient. A person can become deformed spiritually through sin but only a person—created in the image and likeness of God—can sin in the first place. IOW, before a sin can stain the person, there must be a human person to stain. And the human person is sacred regardless of his/her spiritual condition. 

This brings us back to my original question: What unclean spirits—fallen angels or animal impulses—chain us among the dead? We could list them: pride, anger, vengeance, lust, greed—all the classics. We could add a few more contemporary demons: porn, drugs, artificial contraception, entitlement, co-habitation. The names of the unclean spirits that make up Legion may change over time but their purpose never does. They are charged with the nefarious task of tempting God's children to degrade, demean, and destroy the one divine gift that makes us perfectible in Christ: the imago Dei, the image and likeness of God that we all share with Him. Every sin we commit is a deliberate strike against the imago Dei of the human person. And since each one of us is a member of the Body of Christ, each sin is a strike against the imago Christi of the Church. Legion's mission never changes. Neither does the Good News. All of our obligations under the Old Covenant have been fulfilled in Christ, so we are no longer chained to sin, bound among the tombs. We are free. Freed to pursue holiness using all the gifts of the Holy Spirit, freed to live abundantly, cleanly, in love, and without fear. 

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So God made a farmer. . .

Not a community organizer, or an activist, or a politician, or a union worker. . .but a FARMER!
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BXVI bustin' out The Truth

BXVI's Sunday Angelus:

“Let us ask the Lord to give each of us a spirit of courage and wisdom, so that in our words and actions, we may proclaim the saving truth of God’s love with boldness, humility and coherence. . .” 

“Jesus did not come to seek the consent of men, but to give testimony to the truth. . .” 

“The true prophet does not obey anyone other than God and places himself at the service of truth, ready to pay in person. . .”

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Love's gotta hurt. . .sometimes

NB.  The deacons are preaching this weekend, so here's a Roman homily from 2010 that I never got to preach.

 

4th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

SS. Domenico e Sisto, Roma

Jesus, once again, riles people up! He's good at that. Like prophets before him, he tells people what they don't want to hear. By proclaiming that Isaiah's prophecy of the coming of the Messiah has been fulfilled in their hearing, Jesus challenges those gathered in the temple to step up and believe that he embodies God's promise of salvation. Instead, assuming that the authority of a majority is sufficient to determine truth, the crowd runs him out of town and tries to lynch him. He walks unharmed through the riot and leaves town. Why do the temple-goers reject Jesus' claim to be the fulfillment of God's promise to send a Messiah? Two reasons: 1) Jesus is a local boy, and we all know that “no prophet is accepted in his native place;” and 2) Jesus' use of proverb, “Physician, cure yourself,” indicates his refusal to perform a showy miracle to confirm his identity. What does he do instead? He does exactly what pastors and preachers are taught in seminary not to do when parishioners get twitchy. He throws down a challenge and a rebuke. In essence, he says, “God's own people have always rejected His prophets, and look at the results. He graces Gentiles before Jews and you people never learn.” Ouch. If Jesus had had a bishop, His Excellency's phone would be ringing off the hook! Remember how often we are told that Jesus is a uniter not a divider, a peace-bringer not a controversialist. He's all about harmony and consensus and living within the tensions of difference. Well, tell that to the screaming lynch mob. They might disagree. Obviously, Jesus lacked the cultured pastoral touch of a postmodern bishop. So, should we look to him and his prophetic style as a model for preaching his gospel?

Confrontation has its place in preaching. The prophets of the Old Testament were known and feared for their unwavering commitment to speaking God's message even in the face of torture and execution. Kings dodged them when possible, summoning them to court to answer for their traitorous speech only when necessary. Prophets were notoriously stubborn, self-righteous, and usually disreputably attired. Any one of these three characteristics was enough to warrant royal and public dismissal. Add to the scene the fact that prophets tended to be well-known local boys and you have the makings of a courtly farce. Is it any wonder then that the prophets of old resorted to confrontation when dealing with the cold-hearts and closed-minds of a nation's rulers? Sometimes you have to smash through a wall when the door is barred. Sometimes the shock of hearing the truth spoken aloud is enough to cure the deafness of the worst sinner. And sometimes it isn't. On these occasions, it's wise to get as far away from the condemned nation as possible. Why? Because quite possibly the scariest thing a prophet can say is: “Behold, you will suffer the consequences of your hard heart!” It's time to run.

Unfortunately, these days, it seems that every corner, every cable channel, every church/mosque/temple has its own prophet proclaiming the coming apocalypse. Like a flock of squawking crows, these folks fly around the world squeaking and squealing warning us of imminent local destruction and the inevitability of global disaster if we don't change our ways. They have adopted the confrontational rhetoric of the wildest biblical prophet. Do we listen? Some certainly do. Most don't. Confrontation oft repeated quickly devolves into annoying harassment. Those ominous crows start to look and sound like Chicken Little's. What's missing from their squealy prophesying is Godly love, a sincere concern for the good of the whole beyond the immediate personal benefits of power and prestige. What's missing is the divine authority that Jesus himself uses in the temple to announce his arrival as the Messiah. His authority is the power and glory of the most excellent way, the way of sacrificial love.

This leads us to the big question of the day: can sacrificial love be confrontational? Anyone who has ever marched in a pro-life demonstration or prayed outside an abortion clinic will tell you that the counter-protesters and the escorts are demonically vicious. For them this isn't just about freedom of choice and left/right politics. They hate us. Passionately hate us. You can expect that groups on opposite ends of the political spectrum to get feisty, maybe even a little rowdy, in the midst of a march. But the bile and venom spewed by pro-abortion activists at pro-life folks goes well beyond the kind of anger that normal politics generates. Why? The choice to have an abortion is intensely personal; it goes to the very core what most Americans think of us their untouchable autonomy in deciding what's best for them. An unwanted pregnancy attaches unwanted responsibilities and necessarily limits a woman's choice of options. But even more than this, pregnancy places a woman in the natural mode of motherhood and all that that implies. At the very core of motherhood is sacrificial love, giving oneself wholly to another. When pro-life marchers remind abortion advocates that the fetus is a person, a being deserving of love, those who would call the killing of this person a moral good react with unadulterated rage. They know the Church is right. And they must cultivate a self-righteous wrath in order to drown out their guilt. The gospel message of love used by the pro-life movement to stubbornly resist compromising with the culture of death shames them into hatred. Denied a convenient salve for their seared consciences, the venom flows and they fall more securely into demonic hands.

It should be shockingly clear to the Church by now that our best witness to the culture of death is sacrificial love. Paul writes, “Love is patient, love is kind. . .it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” With some we can reason. With others we can demonstrate. But some we must simply love. Bearing up under the burden of hatred, believing solely in the power of mercy, hoping in the promises of the Father, and enduring insult, persecution, and trial, the Church must not be satisfied with merely presenting the truth of the gospel, flashing cue cards and murmuring sound bites. What will heal a seared conscience cannot be logically deduced and crammed onto a bumper sticker. Slogans on placards are easily refuted by other slogans on placards. What cannot be refuted is an act of love done in sacrifice, a willing act of surrender done so that another might be see the truth. Paul reminds us what we know by faith, “Love never fails.” Even as the prophet feels the sword cut into his flesh, he knows that he has succeeded in touching a conscience burned by hatred and malice. His persistence in telling the truth is not ended by death but rather vindicated by it, shown to be the undeniably divine power it truly is.

When he proclaims to the people in the temple that Isaiah's messanic prophecy has been fulfilled in their hearing and subsequently chastises the crowd for their unbelief, Jesus causes a riot. He holds up before the people their dishonesty, their faithlessness, their charred consciences. He shows them that they know he is telling the truth and yet still refuse to hear it spoken. For them to believe such a proclamation changes everything-- uproots centuries of tradition and belief, revolutionizes everyday life, forces them to make a choice and live by it. Rather than surrender, they riot and pour out the hatred and malice of those who have seen the corrupted state of their souls. How does Jesus respond? He dies on the cross for them. If we will be his Church, we must be prepared to do nothing less. The march for life is a march to the cross. . .not for ourselves but for those who will not see, will not hear.

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Refiner's fire, fuller's lye

Presentation of the Lord
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
St. Dominic Church, NOLA

With the baby Jesus—just 40 days old—Joseph and Mary travel to the temple in Jerusalem to fulfill the requirements of the Mosaic Law. Since the birth of the Christ Child, the Blessed Mother has been considered legally “unclean,” that is, she has been deemed impure for the purpose of worship in the temple and restricted from touching anything considered sacred to the Lord. We must note here that her impurity is not moral or physical but legal. There is nothing morally or physically wrong about being a mother. The Law set this requirement—think of it as a 40 day fast—in order to emphasize the importance of offering a firstborn son to the Lord as a “first fruits sacrifice.” In the temple, Mary and Joseph meet Simeon, a devout and righteous man, and Anna, a prophetess. Both recognize Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah and acclaim him as the Savior. With Christ's presentation in the temple, we recall Malachi's prophetic questions: “Who will endure the day of his coming? And who can stand when he appears?” Are we prepared for the refiner's fire and the fuller's lye? 

Where Mary was required by the Law to seek legal purification by offering her first born son in the temple, and thereby regaining access to the holy of holies, we are granted access to God by the “once for all” sacrifice of her son on the Cross. Some thirty years after Mary and Joseph present the Christ Child in the temple, Jesus offers himself—as both priest and victim—for the salvation of the whole world. The Christ's birth and death as one of us brings all of us to the threshold of the heavenly temple and invites us to step into the holy of holies, to follow his excellent Way, and submit ourselves to what the prophet Malachi calls “refiner's fire,” “the fuller's lye.” To be purified of all impurities, to be bleached of every stain: so that we may be presented to the Lord as spotless sacrifices on His altar. What do we sacrifice? Nothing and everything. Nothing we have and nothing we are is ours to give. And everything we have and everything we are is given. Because Christ the Lamb precedes us to the altar, our sacrifices are his and his are ours. . .IF, if we follow his excellent Way and submit ourselves to a life- long fast in love: surrendering hatred, anger, vengeance, greed, lust, jealousy, and pride. Are you prepared for the refiner's fire and the fuller's lye? 

Please forgive me this image, but it is more than apt. Have you ever been prepared for a colonoscopy, or some other sort of gastro-intestinal diagnostic procedure? The doctor can't do his best work if you are—shall we say?—“unclean.” It is necessary to spend some time purging the impurities from your system before a proper examination can be done. Think of your sins, all your vices—great and small alike—and imagine them poisoning your soul, imagine them clogging your spiritual system, restricting your access to the Lord's blessings. What we need is a way to flush those impurities, a way to wash away all those habits of mind and body that prevent us from absorbing the divine nutrients of God's graces. In the same way that we can be prepared physically for a medical exam, we can be prepared spiritually for the final exam of our soul. We call this the sacrament of confession. 

Mary endures 40 days of fasting from the temple and all things holy so that she might exult in presenting her son to the Lord. Because Christ presented himself to the Father on the Cross as a once-for-all sacrifice for us, we do not have to endure 40 days of fasting from the altar, or from His graces. We have immediate and unlimited access. There is no good reason for us live with the impurities that sicken us. Step into the refiner's fire and the fuller's lye. . .and be made clean! 

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Big Faith not required

32rd Week OT (M)
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Our Lady of the Rosary/St Dominic Church, NOLA

I was ordained to the priesthood in 2005 at St Peter's Church in Memphis, TN. Home of Elvis Presley's Graceland mansion. My first priestly assignment took me to Dallas, TX. Home of big oil, the Cowboys, and the Ewings. Big cars, big houses, big swimming pools, and, of course, big meals! Even living with Christ in TX was big. Megachurches and Christian theme parks. Christians in the south in general tend to live a large faith, an all-consuming preoccupation with the Bible and Jesus. But like the super-sized meals we love, a super-sized faith can be dangerous, especially when that faith is measured in terms of quantity. You can hear preachers telling the sick that they will be healed if only they have “enough faith.” Or that a new job or a real estate deal will come if you just “believe enough.” This idea that our faith is about quantity seems to be reinforced by this morning's gospel. From Mark, we hear Jesus tell the apostles that the Kingdom is like a mustard seed: small but packed with the potential to grow into “the largest of plants.” However, when it comes to our faith, our trust in God's promises, size doesn't matter. 

Now, you might say here, “Well, if faith the size of a mustard seed can grow into the Kingdom of God, then surely even the tiniest bit of faith could cure cancer and restore sight!” You could say that, but you would be missing the point entirely. In Luke's version of the Mustard Seed Parable, the apostles ask Jesus to increase their faith so that they can accomplish a seemingly impossible task, i.e. forgiving an offending brother every time he asks to be forgiven. Jesus' answer to this request tells us plainly that it is not the size or amount of our faith that matters, but the intensity, the integrity with which we exercise it. A bigger hammer is not necessarily a better tool if it is improperly used. A smaller hammer expertly used can be an excellent tool. So, the question is not “how big is your faith?” but rather “with what degree of strength and skill do you wield your faith?” In the same way that good tools must be sharpened, oiled, cleaned, and properly stored, so our faith must be expertly honed and maintained. We have on hand the expertise of the Church Fathers, the saints, the sacraments, the magisterium, and we have one another. All of these are specifically designed to assist us in keeping our trust in the Father's promises brightly polished, razor sharp, and squeaky clean. When we make full use of them, use them regularly, sincerely, and with an eye toward our ultimate end, our faith can only be strengthen. The tallest tower can collapse with time. The biggest monument can erode away. But our faith—even faith the size of a mustard seed—is invincible, indestructible if we take care to use every godly gift we have been given. 

A finely honed and well-polished faith is also a good tool to use in building our confidence. In the Letter to the Hebrews we read, “Remember the days past when. . .you endured a great contest of suffering. . .you were publicly exposed to abuse and affliction. . .You even joined in the sufferings of those in prison and joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property, knowing that you had a better and lasting possession.” That better and lasting possession is eternal life through your faith in Christ. That faith—even the tiniest seed of faith—sustains, nourishes, and strengthens us when it's time for us to suffer persecution. “Therefore, do not throw away your confidence. . .You need endurance to do the will of God and receive what he has promised.” 

Living large with Christ doesn't require a Big Faith. Even the tiniest seed of faith can sprout into the Kingdom of God. 

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The Church is not a slave to fashion!

The Holy Father's Household Theologian, Fr. Wojciech Giertych, OP explains the impossibility of ordaining women to the priesthood and responds to several common objections made against this reality. Good job, fra. Wojciech!

Hat Tip: Fr. Z.
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A ghost in my library?

Around 2.30 this morning I was awakened by a soft thump near my bed. 

I "heard" the thump as books falling from a nearby shelf.

 

Having a vivid imagination and a theological mind, I went back to sleep thinking that a demon/poltergeist/ghost was messing around with my library, trying to frighten me.

These sleepy ruminations turned into a dream where I awoke at my usual 4.30am to discover all of my books piled up in neat stacks on the floor.

When I actually awoke at 4.30am, I fully expected to see my bookshelves bare and my floor covered by teetering towers of books!

After a few seconds to get my glasses on, I saw three books on the floor, face down.  One written by BXVI on preaching; on written by de Lubac on interpreting scripture; and a third by Pelikan on the history of the BVM.

So. . .what's the demon/poltergeist/ghost trying to tell me?

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