What sort of witness are you?

6th Sunday OT
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
Our Lady of the Rosary, NOLA

What sort of witness is the Lord teaching us to be?

Jesus is spending a great deal of time healing the sick, preaching to the crowds, teaching his favored disciples, driving out demons. And he is spending a great deal of time telling people to be quiet about who he is and what he's doing. Remarkably so, among the first to bear witness to Jesus’ divine Sonship are the demons, the unclean spirits who bellow out his identity: “We know who you are: the Holy One of God!” Jesus silences them with a word. The men and women who Jesus makes new with his healing touch also bear witness to who he is. And he sternly orders them to silence as well. For all the good it does! What sort of witnesses does the Lord want us to be?

Jesus seems to want to show us who he really is and at the same time he seems restrained by a need for secrecy, for silence. Let me suggest that the reason for this terrible tension is prophetic, that is, the tension is there so that it might be played out in our witness NOW, played out in the charge we have been given to be the prophetic bearers of the Word, voices for the Good News in the world.

Think about it: if Jesus had come to us like a Lord of the Rings Wizard, throwing fireballs, casting spells, riding giant eagles to fight the demons, we would have had a fantastic show, a brilliant demonstration of raw, unearthly power. But don’t you think that this sort of theater would have to be repeated again and again? Repeated to the point that it became nothing but a show? What Jesus is trying to teach us—the Good News of our salvation—would be so easily overshadowed by the spectacular special effects of the show. What would we see? The Christ dying for our eternal life? Or some sort of weird version of David Copperfield, dying horribly on the cross, and then snapping back to life and inviting us back to see the ten o’clock show?

Or, if he had come to us as a staid philosophy professor. With tweed jacket, pipe, bad graying comb-over, Jesus gathers a crowd of over-educated, middle-class egghead wanna-bes and spends one afternoon a week expounding on the Christological taxonomies of the Hebrew prophetic witness and deconstructing the meta-narrative prejudices of a bourgeois modernist cultural hegemony that insists taxonomies adequately sign “reality.” But don’t you think that this sort of theater would have to be repeated again and again? What Jesus is trying to teach—the Good News of our salvation—would be so easily smothered by pretentious academic jargon, and the always-present temptation in intellectual circles to make it all just about symbol or just about history or just about myth. Who Jesus is for us gets lost. . .

(We turn to you, Lord, in time of trouble, and you fill us with the joy of salvation.)

Jesus’ public ministry in Mark’s gospel looks confused because Jesus doesn’t want us to see him as a magician, a wizard out to build a fan base. He doesn’t want us to see him as a philosopher in the classical Greek tradition, a man of High Reason, logic, and impeccable pagan virtue. Jesus wants us to see him. Him, as he is. Fully God, fully man. Capable of claiming his Father’s power to re-create the perfection of human health, to make right the wrong of sin, to bring back from the edge of total, soulless darkness the soul that reaches out, that needs saving. Jesus wants us to see him as he is: as a man with limits—a need for rest, food, companionship, love, solitude AND wants us to see him as God—He Who rests in our hearts as the sacrifice that fulfills the covenant; the One Who feeds us the food and drink of heaven; the One Who is with us always as friend and Father; Who loves us without limit, without prejudice, loves us to repentance; and the One Who is here even in our solitude, the One Who fills our longing and loneliness with immaculate mercy, perfectly refined joy.

(I turn to you, Lord, in time of trouble, and you fill me with the joy of salvation.)

 
Jesus Christ is a man we can bear witness for. Jesus Christ is God whose Word we can bear, whose promises we can shout about. We can be witnesses who tell stories of healing, stories of radical mercy and forgiveness, stories of unexpected grace and enlightenment. You can see and hear the gospel. You can train your mind to think with the Church, your heart to beat with the saints, and your voice to proclaim the always re-creating Word of God.

For example, Paul asks the Corinthians to imitate him as he imitates Christ. We cannot all live in the circus, being showman for Jesus. Nor can we all live in the university, being bookish geeks for the Lord. But we can know and love and talk about the Jesus of this gospel. The God-Man who touches diseases and heals, who touches a disposable outcast and makes him family again. The God-man who seeks out a little solitude to recharge, to recover from the hard work of being a preacher of the Good News to the shepherdless crowds.

You can be a witness for Christ by imitating Christ: speak a word of healing, of peace, of charity wherever you find yourself. Shine out your joy! Tell the truth about our redemption in Christ: he died for us so that when we confess our sins, repent of them and do penance, we are able to receive God’s forgiveness as freed men and women, and then put that forgiveness to use as healthy food for our growth in holiness. You can be a witness for Christ by doing everything you do for the greater glory of God, by not seeking first your own benefit but the benefit of others, and always, always telling the truth of the faith.

Jesus seems restrained by a need for secrecy and silence. Are we restrained in our witness as well by secrecy and the need for silence? Do we contain our witness as a private matter, a personal religious thing that we practice all alone? Maybe there is a spirit of shame or embarrassment gagging your witness? Or maybe a spirit of intellectual pride or fear of ridicule? Maybe you have been bitten by the All-Religions-Are-Basically-the-Same-So-It-Really-Doesn't-Matter-What-I-Believe bug and think that witnessing to Christ is somehow intolerant of religious diversity or unnecessarily provocative. Perhaps your witness has been silenced by the anger and bitterness of dissenters within the Church, or militant secularists outside the Church. Regardless—literally, without regard to any these — you approach this altar tonight to take into your body the Body and Blood of Christ, the One Who died for you, the One who reached out over the void, across creation as the divine breath of life and touched you; touches you now and heals you.

Go. Show yourself to the World, to the Church, and offer as your witness the cleansing that Jesus Christ has accomplished in you. Spread it abroad. Keep coming back and keep going out.

(We turn to you, Lord, in time of trouble, and you fill us with the joy of salvation.)

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Turning the Ordinary into the Extra-Ordinary

5th Week OT (S)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

St. Dominic Church,, NOLA

Those of us who have grown up in the Protestant South have heard all our lives that Catholics do not revere the Bible. Catholics prefer performing strange rituals, marching around in elaborate costumes, lighting candles and incense, and muttering to statues in a dead language. Even today, my Protestant friends distinguish between “Catholics” and “Bible Christians,” using the two words as if there is no connection between the two, no overlap. What my friends fail to grasp is the concept of the sacramental imagination. In an interview, George Weigel, the biographer of Pope John Paul II, offers a description of the Catholic way of seeing God's creation. He says, “. . .the world has been configured by God in a 'sacramental' way, i.e., the things of this 'real world' can disclose the really real world of God's love and grace. The Catholic 'sacramental imagination' sees in the stuff of this world hints and traces of the creator, redeemer, and sanctifier of the world. . .” St. Mark's story of the feeding of the 4,000 gives us a chance to hear Jesus himself teaching us how to view his Father's creation sacramentally. A few loaves of bread and a few fish, blessed by Christ, feed a huge crowd. The unexpected generosity of God miraculously feeds the bodies of those who follow His son. Those fed have witnessed the love and grace of God in an otherwise ordinary, everyday activity: eating dinner. The Catholic sacramental imagination turns the ordinary into the extraordinary, revealing God's presence in His creation.

We have no reason to believe that the miracle described by Mark didn't happen exactly like Mark describes it—four thousand people are fed with just a few loaves of bread and a few fish. We can read the story as a story about the everyday lives of Christians struggling to faithfully live out their baptismal vows. Jesus sees the trials of those who follow after him. He hears all about how we are alienated from God by sin; how we suffer from temptation, disease, persecution; how we hunger and thirst for righteousness and truth; how we strain to be merciful, loving, true to all his commands. Watching us day to day, Jesus says, “My heart is moved with pity for [you]. . .If I send [you] away hungry to [your] homes, [you] will collapse on the way. . .” We've come a long way out of the world to join the crowds that follow Jesus. He's never pretended that following him is easy. He's never lied to us and told us that being faithful is as simple as performing a few rituals or lighting a few candles or muttering prayers before a statue. We have chosen a very difficult way of living in God's creation. But He will not leave us tired and hungry. He takes the bread, blesses it, and gives it to us to eat. 

One piece of bread becomes two. And two becomes four. Four, eight. And because this bread is also his body—both human and divine—we are fed physically and spiritually. The things of the “real world” (bread, wine, oil, water) can reveal the really real world of God's love and grace. The sacramental imagination is a biblical way of living in God's world—seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling His presence, and gaining strength in body and spirit as we notice Him and give Him thanks for being with us always. 

The Psalmist sings, “In every age, Lord, you have been our refuge.” Hungry, thirsty, blind, deaf, afraid—we take refuge in God and find all that we need to succeed in His Christ.

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Even the dogs eat the children's scraps

5th Week OT (R)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

St. Dominic Church, NOLA

I'll start with a rather blunt assertion: No, the Greek woman in this evening's gospel does not teach Jesus a lesson about inclusivity nor does she “open his eyes” to the needs of the Gentiles. To believe that the woman somehow enlightens our Lord with a clever retort assumes that Jesus—the incarnated Son of God—doesn't know about or understand his universal mission as the Messiah. It makes more sense—given what we know from the other gospels—to conclude that Jesus slowly reveals the fullness of his mission over time. He repeatedly orders those whom he healed to keep their healing a secret. He also refuses to perform miracles on occasion and sometimes takes his disciples off to teach them in private. These examples seem to indicate that though Jesus wants his identity widely known, he also wants to keep the exact nature of his ministry something a mystery. . .at least until his earthly ministry comes to an end on the cross. If all of this is true, then what are we to make of his exchange with the Greek woman? Like in the story of the centurion with the sick slave, the story of the Canaanite woman, the story of the man born blind, and many others—Jesus is challenging the Greek woman to publicly declare her faith, to lay claim to her inheritance as a child of God.

And what is this inheritance? Generally, she has inherited the privilege of prayer, that is, the grace to approach the Father through His Son and ask for what she needs for herself and her family. As a member of God's family, she has access to the Father. She has been gifted with the desire to praise Him, to thank Him, and to grow spiritually while doing so. By openly, freely acknowledging her trust in God's promises, the Greek woman openly, freely acknowledges God's power to accomplish in her life and the lives of her loved ones every good they need to thrive as holy creatures. We know all of this to be true b/c the moment she says to Jesus, “Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s scraps,” the demon is exorcised from her daughter. 

Take note of not only the woman's admission of faith but also how she characterizes herself and her fellow Gentiles—all of those who need God's mercy through Christ. Rather than rear up in righteous indignation at Jesus' apparent insult—calling them “dogs”—the woman takes on the derisive label and admits to Jesus that “even the dogs” get scraps! This isn't exaggeration or just plain ole self-effacement. She is confessing genuine humility. Had she been playing word games with Jesus or trying to teach him a lesson, her confession of faith would have been emptied out and her daughter would not have been freed from the demon. What our Lord hears in the woman's plea is authentic love, authentic faith, and authentic humility—all gifts from the Father. These are what make her a member of God's family not her tribe or race or nation. 

The Greek woman recognizes and publicly acknowledges her need for God's blessings. As children of God, we too have access to the Father through Christ. When you pray, do you pray with genuine love, faith, and humility? Do you receive God's blessings with gratitude, openly and freely acknowledging your dependence on Him? When blessed by God as a child of God, do you multiply your blessings by sharing them with others? I hope so! Remember: even the dogs eat the children's scraps.

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Painting Links

Links to most of my paintings. . .by request:

Five New Paintings

Three Paintings More

Three New Paintings

Eden & Didache

Painting: 40 Days

Four New Paintings

Three More Paintings (les fleurs)

Two More Just Finished

3 New Paintings and 2 Re-runs

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So that I may share in the Gospel

5th Sunday OT
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
St Dom/Carmelite Laity/OLR, NOLA

Job is not a happy man right now. He's lost everything. His life is drudgery. He's a like a slave who works away his days in the sun, longing for shade. All his nights are troubled. He's soaked in months of misery. Restlessness while trying to sleep; hopeless while he's awake. He says, “. . .my life is like the wind; I shall not see happiness again.” We know all too well why Job is having such a tough time. He's lost everything. His wealth. His health. His family. All of it. He might be able to suffer well under his material losses, but he's lost one thing that all of us need most. He's lost his purpose. He's lost his end, his reason for living. If he had a purpose, he could look forward and place his losses within a bigger plan to reach that goal. But without a goal, Job has no way to give his suffering meaning. Jesus has a purpose. Paul has a purpose. And they know happiness in knowing their purpose. What purpose do you serve? Can you name the happiness that gives all of your suffering a meaning?

What's the point of having a pupose? Isn’t it easier getting out of bed in the morning knowing you have a purpose, knowing you have a goal to achieve, a To Do List for your life that needs some work? Isn't it easier making it to work or class or the next thing on the list knowing that your attention, energy, labor, and time will be focused on completing a mission, on getting something done? With the time we have and the talents we're given, don’t we prefer to see constructive and profitable outcomes? Even when we’re being a bit lazy, wasting a little time doing much of nothing, we have it in the back of our mind to get busy, to get going on something, checking that next thing on the list and moving toward a goal. It’s how we are made to live in this world. Not merely to live for a daily To Do List, but to move toward some sort of perfection, some sort of completion. 

 

For example, Paul writes to the Corinthians: “If I preach the gospel, this is no reason for me to boast, for an obligation have been imposed on me, and woe to me if I do not preach it!” Paul is given a goal, a purpose beyond mere survival, beyond merely getting along. Having been smacked around by the Lord for persecuting the Church, Paul finds himself ordered to a regime of holiness, a kingdom of righteousness, that demands more than rule-following, more than simply showing up and breathing in the temple's atmosphere. Paul must preach. He must travel city to city, province to province, publicly witnessing to his repentance, to the power of Christ’s mercy accomplished on the Cross.

Paul’s sleep is restful. His work exhausts him. He is a slave whose labor is never drudgery, never pointless. His end, his purpose is Jesus Christ; the telling again and again of his story; his bruising encounter with the man of love. And offering to anyone who will open their eyes to see and their ears to hear; offering to them the same restfulness; the same pleasing exhaustion; the same intense, purposeful focus that the need to proclaim the Good News compels.

 

Jesus, exhausted by his purpose, is doing his best to find a little time away from the crowds. When Simon and other disciples find him and say, “Everyone is looking for you.” Jesus, pursued, literally, by his purpose responds responsibly, “Let us go to the nearby villages that I may preach there also. For this purpose have I come.” Soon he will look out over the vast crowd and, moved by compassion, teach them many things. Now, exhausted himself, he takes his students out again to preach and teach the Good News. It is his purpose – to show those hungry for God that God does indeed rule, that He holds dominion here, over all creation – heaven and earth, man and the devil – and that healing flows from faith, light always overcomes darkness, and that evil, no matter how far ahead in the worldly race, has already lost.

Job has lost his purpose and dwells in an anxious darkness. Paul is driven by his need to witness. Jesus reveals His Father’s kingdom—healing, driving out demons, preaching. Job recovers his purpose when the Lord dramatically reminds him who is God and who is creature, Who Is Purpose Himself and who has a purpose. Paul runs his preaching into every town he crosses, proclaiming the Word, setting up houses of prayer, and leaving behind men and women strong in the faith. Jesus moves inexorably toward the Cross, his work for the Way along the way reveals again and again the always, already present victory of Life over Death, freedom over slavery, final success over endless failure.

What goals do you serve? Why do you get up in the morning? What meaning does your work, your play have for you? Who are you in light of what you have promised to be and do? What makes you happy? Where do you find joy? Lots of questions! But all of these are really just one question: what is your purpose?

You have a given purpose and a chosen purpose. Your given purpose is dyed into your flesh, pressed through into your bones; it is a God-placed hook in your heart, a hook that tugs you relentlessly back to Him, back to His perfecting goodness. Your chosen purpose is how you choose to live out day-to-day your given purpose, how you have figured out how to make it back to God. Student, mother, professor, virgin, priest, monk, artist, poet, engineer, athlete, clerk, scientist, father, nurse, dentist. When your chosen purpose best reveals your given purpose, when what you have chosen to do helps who you are given to be flourish, your anxiety finds trust, your sleeplessness finds rest, your despair finds joy. And you can say with Paul: “All this I do for the sake of the gospel,” – heal, study, pray, minister, write, research, teach, drive, build, all this I do for the gospel – “so that I too may have a share in it.”

What Purpose do you serve? I mean, when you work, when you study and teach and play, toward what end do you reach? What goal seduces you forward, pulls you to the finish line? Surely for us, all of us here, that purpose is Jesus Christ. Our goal is his friendship, his love. And our goal is his witness, our telling of his Good News. We can waddle around in the darkness of sin, bumping around blind, reaching for what’s never there. We can wail into the wind like Job, moaning about the meaninglessness of life, the pointlessness of our daily striving. We can even refuse happiness, refuse to see that we have a given purpose. But you will find your release and your license, your freedom and your choice when you make yourself a slave to all, when you make yourself all things to all, to help save at least some.

Like Paul, a trusted steward, a faithful child, preach the gospel. Live it right where you are. Make it your reason for getting out of bed, for going to work, for making it to class. Make it who you are, what you do, and everything you ever will become.

Everyone is looking for you. For what purpose do you live?

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Five New Paintings

 Fear No Evil (18 x 24 canvas board)

 Verdant Pastures (16 x 20 canvas board)

 My Cup Overflowing (16 x 20 canvas board)

 Joyful Task (16 x 20 canvas board)

 Nothing to Want (16 x 20 canvas board)

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Fear Makes Us Foolish

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

When we fall into sin, it's usually because of pride. Herod is no exception. His degeneration into foolishness might be blamed on lust – an older man drooling over a much younger woman. But – at its core – all foolishness is pride. Salome the Dancer, and her mother, Herodias, take advantage of Herod's pride through his lust and turn his well-known generosity into cold-blooded murder. They succeed in turning Herod into a murdering tyrant b/c he is possessed by the dark spirits of anxiety and fear. Why else would a powerful king keep a holy and righteous man like John the Baptist in prison? Fear makes us foolish, and foolishness is and always will be the enemy of God's wisdom.

John preaches against Herod's adultery, warning the king again and again that his sin will taint the kingdom. Herod imprisons John, keeping him close, and preventing him from preaching against the king publicly. We can almost hear Herod's internal conflict. God's wisdom and the king's conscience draw Herod to John's preaching. Herod knows that John is right. 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 – it's all about national security and John's safety. And 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?” Why this prayer? B/c fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.

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Our reason for living

4th Sunday of OT
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
Our Lady of the Rosary, NOLA

Paul writes to the always-anxious Corinthians, “Brothers and sisters, I should like you to be free of anxieties.” He would like for them to be released from the slavery of their doubts, the chains of their mistrust, and the need for total control. He would like for them to be able to live in the world and not flail around panicked about what comes next. What’s After This? Where’s the plan? The map? The schedule? Paul would like for his Corinthian brothers and sisters to be rested in the Lord’s promise of mercy, settled into an enduring trust of their Father, and focused on all the things Christ left them to accomplish. Instead, they – like us – spend an inordinate amount of our limited time fretting, scheming, worrying, fidgeting about things and people we cannot possibly influence or control. Let's call this phenomenon, Heliocopter Spirituality – the tendency to hover anxiously over our own lives, stressing about outcomes rather than leaving it all for God to figure out.

What are the Corinthians stressing over? They're distracted by the rigors of family life, worried needlessly by the demands of husbands and wives and children, taken away from the difficult work, the hard labor of preparing for the coming again of the Christ. Paul, and all those Jesus leaves behind, wait for their beloved Master to return to them and take them all away. They are anxious about many things, but most anxious about the apparent delay in his return. Paul’s admonishment to them: don’t become too attached to the workings of this world – the things of this world demand their own kind attention, their own kind of sacrifice. Rather, stay free for Christ, and do what he has asked you to do.

What are you anxious about? What unclean spirits harass you? Do you know the name of the fearfulness that chews away at the strength of your gifts, your trust, your patience? Do you know the name of the spirit that moves you to hide from God, moves you to ignore God, moves you to defy God? You can all say, “Sure, Father, it’s the Devil!” Yes, it is. But more specifically, can you identify, precisely point out the spirit that steals your peace in Christ?

Jesus goes to Capernaum to teach in the synagogue. People are astonished at his teaching, stunned at the authenticity and authority of his message. He speaks the Word; he teaches and preaches a Word of power and might, claiming for himself the authority of his Father and, in doing so, claiming for the Father the lives, the souls of those who hear and heed his Word. Despite the power of his message, it's not the men and women who hear him that feel their world shaking. Notice who grows anxious, notice whose peace is rattled to the core: the unclean spirits!

The men and women who hear Jesus preach are gifted, graced with the boundless love of God. The unclean spirit is fearful. The men and women are astonished, opened, enlightened, touched by glory at the Word proclaimed. The unclean spirit is dreadful, nervous, shaken, and most definitely stirred! The people there leap forward to grab hold of the Word and they hold on to the Word as if it were a hurt child, or a long-lost loved one. They embrace the hope, the expectation of eternal life, the renewal of their lives with the Father, the reconciliation that the God-man, Jesus, makes real. The unclean spirit can only despair and complain. It can only wail louder and gripe, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us?” Our Lord was sent. He is sent. And he will be sent again.

Moses spoke to his people and said, “A prophet like me will the Lord, your God, raise for you from among your own kin; to him you shall listen […] I will put my words into his mouth; he shall tell them all that I command him.” Our Lord will send a prophet, a voice to speak His Word to us and we will listen. We heard Elijah, Ezekiel, Jeremiah. We heard Amos and Isaiah. And much more recently, we heard John the Baptizer. We heard the Name he spoke to us, the announcement of the Good News of our Savior’s arrival in the flesh. And then we heard the Christ Himself teach us salvation, preach to us the Way of Life through him. We believed. We heard and we believed.

And yet we are still capable of anxiety. Why? I think we forget Who we are dealing with. I think we trudge along, so habituated to hearing the Bad News, that everything the Good God has done for us is lost in the panicky headlines, the hysterical screaming of one crisis after another. We forget what we have said “Amen” to here. We forget what we have asked for here. We come here to remember. And yet, still we forget.

Here’s a reminder, just a reminder to put a little fear into the spirit of forgetfulness that may be haunting us. This evening, if you participate fully in this Eucharist, you will say “Amen”—“it is so”—to the presence of Christ among us. He IS here. You will thank him for his Word proclaimed and thank him again for his Gospel. You will say amen to his ancient teaching and amen again for taking care of your needs. You will say amen to His blessed Name and amen to his coming Kingdom; amen to His will done in all creation and amen to your need for His daily food; amen to his mercy and yours and amen to his protection from evil. You will say “amen” to offering bread and wine, his body and soul on that altar of sacrifice, to be blessed, transformed and given back to Him. You will say amen to His peace and share it. Amen to the Lamb of God and his sacrifice for us. Amen to his supper. And amen and amen for the Holy One of God who teaches with a new authority, preaches with a new authenticity the Word of Life.

What are you anxious about? What spirits worry you? Remember what you have said amen to here this evening. Remember what you have sacrificed and who you are in Christ. Our Lord wants us free of anxieties. Our Lord wants us free so that we can spread the fame of the Good News to everyone, everywhere. Free of attachments, free of distractions, free of sin and death. . .so that our witness to his Good News is our reason for rising, our reason for living.

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Getting Your Attention

3rd Sunday OT
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Our Lady of the Rosary, NOLA

What gets our attention these days? A disaster? Some sort of crisis? Maybe a name change for your favorite team gets you worked up? Or maybe you're a fairly even-tempered soul who reacts calmly in all situations. You're calm in a crisis, controlled, and clear-headed. After all, what isn't a crisis these days? Global warming! Terrorists! ISIS and Boko Haram! Ebola! The End of America! Genocide in Nigeria and Syria! The Collapse of Europe! Open Borders! Just about anything that happens these days (no matter how minor) is presented to us as a crisis of earth-shattering proportions, a disaster on par with the worst punishments visited on sinners in the Old Testament. Digging through the hysterical rhetoric of a hyperventilating media can be exhausting work. If you're like me, you've come to the conclusion that “Wolf” has been cried once too often, and that it is far better to throw in with the providence of God and let human events unfold as they will, knowing that Love Himself has already won the victory for us. Squeals of panic from politicians, activists, and media talking-heads take on a whole new insignificance when placed along side the Word of God and His promise of loving-care. None of this, however, should close our ears to the His call for our repentance. Though He will not destroy us again for our disobedience, He will leave us to face the consequences of ignoring a fair warning. “I tell you, brothers and sisters, the time is running out. . .”

So, what does it take to get your attention these days? The people of Nineveh hear Jonah announce in their streets, “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be destroyed!” Just forty days. And everything you know and love will be gone. Does that get your attention? Apparently, it gets the Ninevehites' attention b/c they repent and their city is spared. What's odd about this brief episode from the Book of Jonah is that the prophet sent by God to warn the Ninevehites never actually offers them a deal. You know the deal: repent or burn. Jonah simply goes around the streets yelling that the city will be destroyed in forty days. No conditions. No hedged bets against destruction. Just a straightforward warning. Why no conditions? Well, we might speculate that Jonah wanted the city destroyed. Or perhaps the Lord's punishment for his earlier reluctance to serve left him feeling a little petulant. Regardless, the threat of destruction is enough to send a city-wide wave of repentance through the population. Having secured the Ninevehites' attention without offering them a deal, Jonah secures the city for the Lord.

So, what does it take to secure your attention? Writing to the Corinthians, Paul announces, “I tell you, brothers and sisters, the time is running out. . .For the world in its present form is passing away.” Does knowing that your time will one day run out secure your attention? Paul's warning to the Corinthians is hardly profound. The world in its present form is always passing away. Time is always running out. Anyone with a watch and somewhere to be knows this. What might not be so obvious at first glance is that for time to run out, for the world in its present form to pass away, there must be a point somewhen in the future toward which we are moving in time. In other words, Paul is telling the Corinthians that time and this present world have an end and that end is swiftly coming to bear. Is this an attention-grabber? Hardly. We're told everyday that the end is near. It's either the ice caps melting or the scarcity of clean air or some new genetically modified plague that's coming to wipe us all out. . .any moment now! Just a few more minutes. . .one or two more hours. . .or, um, in a year or two. Maybe. Telling us that time is short is nothing new, not scary enough to open our ears to news we do not want to hear. It will take more than the dull beat of crisis, crisis, crisis from the media to get our attention.

So, for the last time, what will open your ears to hear what you really need to hear? How about this: “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel!” A time of fulfillment. Not the end of time, or the destruction of your city, but the fulfillment of God's promise to bring His kingdom to us. We are now living in that period of human history that will witness the keeping of a divine promise. Turn from disobedience toward righteousness and believe that the Lord wills that all sinners come to Him for His mercy. Notice the absence of a threat, the absence of a deal. Notice also that Jesus doesn't warn us or nag at us. He simply announces that the Kingdom of God is at hand and then he invites us to turn from our sin and believe that we are forgiven. We don't have to fast to be saved or put on sackcloth or wail our sins in the streets. All we need to do is turn from sin and believe that the Father loves us enough to announce the coming of His kingdom by sending His only Son to live and die as one of us. He fulfills His promise in the body and blood of Christ. The urgent choice we have to make is btw receiving him as Lord, or living – in this world and the next – with the consequences of sin.

Jesus calls all of us to believe his gospel. Not a gospel of loss, of grief and mourning; not of threat or bargain, or dust and fumes; nor the gospel of city-wide apocalypse or righteous war. His is a gospel of everlasting goodness and eternal life, permanent mercy and all-pervading grace; a gospel of ceaseless vitality and living strength. And it is our gospel! Our story! Our work in the world and, if we will take it up, our dare and our charge—to be with Christ in here and to be Christ out there. He says to Simon and Andrew, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Follow after me and my gospel, and I will turn you into men who cast your nets to harvest the lives of men and women who long to give themselves to God. Simon and Andrew abandon all they know and follow Christ. James and John leave their father in his boat and follow Christ. And all of are made into the men that Jesus promises. How did he get their attention? Threats of impending apocalypse? No. Promises of damnation if they refuse? No. He simply tells them the truth. And that truth rings in their ears louder than family, friends, career, hobbies, or even the lure of this world's impermanent joys. 

OK. I lied. I'm going to ask one more time: what does it take to get your attention? Sirens? Flashing lights? Threats of immediate death? How about an invitation from Christ himself to become an heir to his heavenly kingdom? To be a member of his Body with an eternal purpose? If so, here's the Good News: you are so invited. All you need to do to become a disciple of Christ, a preacher of his word, a teacher of his truth. . .is accept his invitation and then go out and bear witness to all that he has said and all that he has done.

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Three Paintings More

I'm dedicating this paintings to Young Master Thurmond, a budding 6 y.o. artist. For his inspiration! 

 Between Grass and Flowers * (18x24 canvas panel)

 Fig Tree (18x24 canvas panel)

 Unblemished (18x24 canvas panel)

* This title is just a little pretentious. It refers to Dante's Purgatorio, Cantos VIII. Consider it a "shout out" to my University of Dallas homies (is "homies" still a thing?)

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Speak, Lord!

2^nd Sunday OT (B)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

Our Lady of the Rosary, NOLA

God calls. He calls us to service, to sacrifice. He calls us to surrender. Do we hear His voice when He calls? Are we like John the Baptist who while still in his mother's womb recognizes his Lord's presence and leaps with joy? Or, are we more like Samuel who doesn't recognize the voice of the God calling him in the night? What's the difference btw John the Baptist's and Samuel's encounter with God? Both are called to serve. Both answer the call – eventually. The difference btw the two is that Samuel doesn't immediately recognize God's voice b/c “at that time [he] [is] not familiar with the Lord, because the Lord had not revealed anything to him as yet.” From Elizabeth's womb John knows the Lord. Nothing more was necessary than Christ's nearness. Samuel needed a leap of faith; he needed to believe before he heard God's voice as God's voice, calling him to serve. To hear the Lord Samuel had to put aside confusion, doubt, and fear. He had to say: “Speak, for your servant is listening.” Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening. That's a confession, a profession of faith, an invitation from a servant to his Master to teach him. Do you have the courage to say to God, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening”?

Before you too eagerly agree that you have the courage to invite God's call, consider the consequences. Hearing the Lord's call and listening to Him could mean a revolution, it could mean an upheaval in your life like you have never experienced before. It could mean becoming a different person, a new person, one led by an all-consuming desire to do God's will, a person fired up to preach and teach the Good News, a person born anew in the power of the Spirit — forgiving, loving, merciful, peaceful, prophetic. Inviting God's call into your life could be the end of your life as you know it. Sin becomes heavier; absolution all the more refreshing. The need to speak the truth becomes unbearable. Look at John the Baptist! He leaps for joy in his mother's womb at the mere presence of the Christ Child. He knew before he was born that his life would be forever bound to Christ's. He lived in the wilderness most of his life, and his head landed on a platter for speaking the truth to a king. Invite God's call into your life. If you dare. The only we can do more dangerous than saying to God – Speak, Lord! – is to say, “Leave me alone, Lord, your servant is busy with other things.”

If it takes courage to invite the Lord's call into your life, it takes something like suicidal recklessness to dismiss Him from your life. As a followers of Christ vowed to bear witness to the Father's mercy in the world, we cannot function w/o the constant attention of God's energizing grace. We cannot be anything near who and what we need to be w/o constantly drawing in His glory, w/o being constantly perfected in His love. To dismiss God's voice from our lives is more than just spiritual suicide. It's a betrayal of everything we have pledged to be and to do in the world for the world. This might all seem to be a little out-there. I'm not suggesting that any of us actually say to God, “Nope. Not working for you, Lord.” But what we might say is something like, “I'll get to your work after I've done mine.” Or “I've got a thousand things to get done today. One of those things is your work.” God's work goes on the To Do List along with grocery shopping, picking up the kids, and paying the bills. In the chaos of daily-getting-by our vow to God to be His living witnesses to the world becomes another mundane task, another chore to check off a list. How do we remember that those groceries, those kids, that job; everything, including this life is His freely given gift to us? We belong to God. 100% wholly owned by the Father. Our lives are His.

How do we remember this basic truth? When Jesus walks past John and two of his disciples, John announces, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” John's disciples leave his side and follow Christ. Jesus asks them, “What are you look for?” They could've said eternal life, pardon for our sins, a place to get some good gumbo. What do they actually say? “Rabbi, where are you staying?” Where Jesus is staying is not all that important here. What is important is that they address Jesus as “Rabbi,” Teacher. They are looking to Christ to be their teacher, to be the one who shows them the Way. After spending an afternoon with Jesus, Andrew, one of John's former disciples, goes to Simon, his brother, and tells him, “We have found the Messiah.” They find a teacher and a savior. And what do they do? They go out and bring others in. The gospel says that Andrew brings Simon to Jesus. How do you remember – day in and day out – that your job, your kids, your friends, your very life are all freely given gifts from God? And that you are His servant? You bear witness to God's mercy everyday and bring to Him a student, a disciple, someone in need of being taught the Way. Even if – especially if – that someone is yourself. You get out of bed every morning, saying, “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.”

That takes courage. Because – as I've said – hearing the Lord's call and doing His will can be revolutionary. Nothing remains the same. Samuel grows into a great prophet. Andrew and the other disciples grow into apostles. Simon becomes Peter, the Rock, the foundation stone of Christ's Church on earth. That small band of men and women cowering in the Upper Room at Pentecost become the longest surviving human institution on the planet. Who will you become when you invite the Lord's call and listen to His voice? You will become exactly who and what He needs you to be right where you are. More faithful, more loving, more hopeful, stronger, more courageous, wiser, more just. You will become – in Christ – exactly who and what you have vowed to be and do: a powerful witness to the mercy of God.

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Three New Paintings

 The Fall (18 x 24 canvas panel, acrylic ink/paint) RECYCLED

 The Annunciation (18 x 24 canvas panel, acrylic ink/paint)
RECYCLED

 Cain & Abel (18 x 24 canvas panel, acrylic ink/paint)

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Help the Seminarians. . .they really need it

Notre Dame Seminary basketball team going to Ohio. . .with your help!


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Gesso Thank You

A Kind & Generous Soul sent me a bottle of gesso from the Wish List. . .

Thank you. Perfect timing. . .I am completely out.

Fr. Philip
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He is never nearer. . .

The Baptism of the Lord

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

Lay Carmelites/OLR, NOLA

“Thus says the Lord: All you who are thirsty, come to the water!” The water is given. . .but we must go to the water. If we are thirsty, we drink. The water is given, but we must choose to drink. “You who have no money, come, receive grain and eat. . .” The grain is given. . .but we must go to the grain. If we are hungry, we eat. The grain is given, but we must choose to eat. As it is with God's gifts of water and grain, so it is with God's mercy, so it is with His forgiveness. If we are repentant, we confess. Forgiveness is given, but we must choose to receive that forgiveness. Who starves to death, or dies of thirst when grain and water are freely given? How many of us remain in sin when absolution is a gift just waiting to be unwrapped? One of the themes of Christmas, the Epiphany, and the Baptism of the Lord is our unworthiness to be given the gift of eternal life. Truly, we do not deserve this prize. However, we are made worthy, we are made to deserve this gift by the birth, the baptism, the death, and the resurrection of the Lord. Having been handed—without cost to us, without any work from us—the keys to our Father's Kingdom, why would we hesitate, why would we balk at stepping up to and stepping into a life of holiness with Him? “Seek the Lord while he may be found, call him while he is near!”

Our Lord is never nearer to us than He is right now. His call to us is never clearer than it is right now. His gift of eternal life is never more ready to be received than it is right now. The urgency that Isiah puts into his prophecy isn't simply rhetorical; in other words, he's not just being dramatic for the sake of being dramatic. The Lord says to Isiah that His Word will go forth from His mouth and it “shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.” That Word, the Word sent out to do God's will, is the Christ, the Son made flesh and he will not return to the Father until the job he was sent to do is done. Since the Christ has returned to the Father, we know that the job he was sent to do has been done. That job is our salvation. The offer of mercy in flesh and blood has been made—once, for all; to Jew and Gentile alike—and now it's our turn. Do we receive His mercy? Do you take all that has been given to you and put it all to work for the greater glory of God? If not, then you condemn yourself to starve and die of thirst within sight of grain and water.

Christ's baptism in the Jordan by John's hand is the baptism of the world. Every creature, every made thing is washed clean, made holy, and brought into a new creation. God's human creatures are given the freedom to follow Christ's example in baptism, or to continue as natural creatures until death. But b/c each of us is gifted with an immortal soul, the decision to continue on as a natural creature has consequences beyond death. Without God's mercy, without receiving His forgiveness, we perish by being forever separated from Him. Baptism brings us into the life of Christ and sets us on the narrow way toward our destined freedom in His love. Baptism makes possible every other means of receiving God's gifts. Baptism is the first but not the only invitation we get to come and enjoy the blessings of God's generosity. Why would we choose to remain natural creatures when our supernatural end is provided free of charge? Why would we remain in sin when our freedom from sin is already paid for, already purchased? So, receive all that God given you! 

 

How do we receive all that we have been given? First, we ask for what we need in prayer. Asking for our needs to be met puts us in a proper relationship with God; that is, as creatures totally dependent on Him for everything we need, we place ourselves before Him in humility, acknowledging our dependency. Second, even before we get what we need, we give Him thanks. Giving thanks before our prayers are answered ensures that we remain in humility and grow in humility even as we reap His blessings. This also prevents us from becoming spoiled brats who take and take but never acknowledge the source of our blessings. Third, celebrate the sacraments as often as possible, always knowing that God's mercy is freely given and never runs out. The sacraments are the ordinary means of receiving grace. God is not bound by His sacraments, but He has established them for us as guaranteed fonts of assistance. We'd be foolish not to take advantage of them as often as they are available. And finally, all the gifts we receive from God are multiplied in the sharing of them. By its very nature, God's abundance is diffusive. Like an expensive perfume sprayed in one room of the house, before long, the whole house smells! God's abundance naturally (by nature) adds to itself, multiplying, advancing, and blessing everyone it touches. When we assist the diffusion of His abundant gifts, we are doubly blessed.

Our Lord is blessed and baptized to fulfill all righteousness under the Law. His baptism reveals his nature and mission: he is the Christ sent to save the world from sin and death. His offer of mercy and forgiveness is made daily, hourly and all we need to do is accept his offer and thrive in holiness. When we come to Him in humility with thanksgiving, He says to each one of us: “You are my beloved child; with you I am well pleased.”

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